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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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GAME WINNER — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

summary: in which Nico gets rewarded for his game winning goal

warnings: MATURE CONTENT! oral (m receiving), nico having a “captain” kink, praise, not a lot of dialogue, not proofread.

notes: this could quite literally be trash, i’ve never written any kind of smut before, so if it’s horrible then please never expect smut from me again

it’s not often that i attend road games with my boyfriend. really, i’ve only been to three previously, but i had a long weekend off work and i was missing Nico. so, can anyone really blame me for giving into my temptations and buying an impulsive flight ticket to Arizona?

now here i sit, on the edge of my seat in Mullett Arena, waiting for the puck to drop again in overtime. i watch through the glass as my boyfriend switches places with Erik Haula for the faceoff, the puck drops and Nico wins it, sliding it back to Dougie.

Dougie passes the puck back to Nico, and my leg starts bouncing anxiously as he skates down the ice into the Coyotes defensive zone. Nico makes quick work of wristing the puck past the goalie and straight into the net, and i jump to my feet, clapping for him.

“YES! NEEKS!” i cheer, observing as he celebrates the win with his teammates. my thighs clench at the sight of his smirk, his cocky attitude more of a turn on than i’d like to admit.

the arena starts to empty out and i follow behind, due to meet with Nico back at his hotel. my mind races with thoughts that i hope nobody can read across my face; my plans for the night have been solidified.

the hotel room is empty when i arrive, which by no means surprises me. i estimate at least another half hour before Nico walks through the door, giving me plenty of time. i ruffle through Nico’s bag, pulling out one of his t-shirts, slipping my own off and unclasping my bra to leave me bare, i pull his shirt down over my head. i kick my shoes off and my jeans follow, being yanked off and shoved into my own bag, leaving my ass clad in red lace.

leaving my hair and makeup, i take a seat on the bed, scrolling through social media as i wait for my boyfriend to enter. as i predicted, it’s not until thirty minutes later that i hear the beep of the key card being scanned and the door opens to reveal Nico. his hair appears slightly damp from his post-game shower, and he’s switched back into his arrival suit.

he’s captivating.

“hi, darling.” he grins, walking over and dropping his phone, wallet, and airpods onto the nightstand. he leans down, dropping a chaste kiss to my lips, but i thread my hands into his hair, pulling him closer in an attempt to deepen it. he pulls back, a smirk spread across his lips once again tonight. “what was that for?”

“i’m so proud of you, captain.” my voice is sultry, dropped low in a seductive tone. his hands grip my waist as i rise from the bed. “you did so good tonight.”

“yeah?” smirk still painted onto his face, he pulls me flush against his body, his still hardening bulge pressing against me. “you’re proud, baby?”

“yeah.” i reiterate. it takes all my willpower to pull my body away from his, distancing myself. “let me show you how much.”

my hands push against his shoulders, and he allows my weak shove to knock him back onto the mattress, sitting at the edge of the bed. i drop to my knees slowly, placing my hands on his thighs as i do so, and look up at him through doe eyes and a bitten lip.

i let my touch graze up to his length, cupping it through his suit pants, and his hand comes up to roughly cup the back of my neck, using his grip to pull my lips to his in a dominant kiss. a moan escapes my throat as he sucks my lower lip, nipping gently at it in the heat of the moment. i smile into the kiss, allowing my fingers to wander down to button of his dress pants, undoing it before slipping my hand past the waistline of his underwear to palm him.

he stiffens for a moment at the cold touch before melting back into the kiss, relaxing into my contact. i part our lips, stroking him a few more times before i glide my hand free to pull his pants down. he assists me in my endeavor, letting his now fully erect cock spring free. my hand returns to it, stroking hard and slow as my tongue slips out to wet my lips.

Nico let’s out a shaky breath and i snake my other hand up to push his shirt up, watching with intrigue as his abs flex. noticing my gaze, he makes quick work of stripping off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it hang open as he falls back onto his hands. i feel my core growing slick with want as i take in the erotic scene of my making, but push my own needs to the side.

tonight is about him.

leaning over, my tongue licks against his tip, making him shudder. i hollow out my cheeks as i go down, letting his cock slip past my lips just slightly. Nico brings one hand back to caress my cheek before using it to grip my hair in a makeshift ponytail, barely able to contain himself from thrusting into my mouth. peeking up at him through my lashes, his eyes are squeezed shut, his head dropped back as his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm with shallow breaths, and it spurs me on to take him farther. i gag as his tip hits my throat, bobbing my head as i watch his reactions.

“y/n.” my name falls from his lips like a prayer, delighting my ears as he exhales it between groans. “fuck. you’re such a good girl.”

his praise causes my heart to pound in my chest, a moan bubbling up my throat. the vibrations of it reaching his cock, urging him to finally let loose and thrust into my throat. i gag once more, but power through it, breathing through my nose as he uses his grip on my hair to start guiding my head back and forth on his length. flattening my tongue along the underside of his shaft, i reach up to grip whatever can’t fit in my mouth, timing my strokes to match the bobs of my head.

Nico mutters some curses in german, his breathing picking up as his abdomen tightens again.

“i’m not gonna last long if you keep doing this, darling.” my lips lift as i smile around his dick, peeking up again to see him watching me as he bites his lip. my jaw starts to ache but i urge on, taking him as far as i can. i continue tugging at his cock as i pull back back to inhale a deep breath through my mouth, grinning up at him.

“i want you to come, captain.” my voice is hoarse from the violation of my throat, but my words still do the trick, making him moan and push my head back down towards his erection. i lick my lips once more before pushing his cock back past them, taking him as deep as i can muster, bobbing my head up and down as i suck around him.

i can feel his pull on my hair get tighter, hear his breath being held for longer, his tell that he’s about to tip over the edge, and i reach my free hand up to trail over his bare stomach, lightly grazing my fingertip down his abs. he groans out more german curses before i finally feel him come undone, ropes of cum coating my mouth as i continue through his climax. when he’s done, he pulls my lips off of his quickly softening cock, his hand dropping my hair and making its way to my cheek as he watches me swallow.

i stay seated on the floor as i watch him tuck himself back into his pants before i climb back up onto the bed.

“that proud, huh?” he teases, gripping my thigh as he pulls me to straddle his waist.

“probably prouder than that.” i whisper, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“i love you.” he mumbles, his hand gliding up and down my spine.

“i love you more, game winning goal scorer.” he chuckles at my words before flipping us over so he hovers above me, his hand trailing to my front and down to my core.

“now how should i take care of you?”

#nico hischier #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fic #nj devils #nhl smut #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

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Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

#jack grealish smut #jack grealish prompt #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish imagine #england national team imagine #england national team #footballer fics #football fics #footie fics

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janumun · 2 years

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I don't think I'm pretty enough for someone like Vil, what's sad because I like him. I think he would not be interested, because he's so handsome and values beauty so much 😔

I assume you’d like me to put my two cents in, Nonny, but remember, you’re free to accept or disregard my thoughts and HCs, however you like!

And I think, the idea of Vil turning his nose up at anyone with an “average” face (there’s an entire separate discussion to be had on that), is an easy misconception to have. I briefly penned down Vil’s ideals and expectations of a partner, in a separate Ask, but I’ll reiterate once again: what Vil truly values in a person is not surface beauty, rather the effort and endeavors one makes towards their goals. You stated he is handsome, and yes, he is, but you’ll also never see Vil taking his position as Pomefiore’s beautiful housewarden, for granted. Always, always aspiring for greater heights; something one who only valued outward appearances, could and would never do. And it is not just his body he maintains well, something also very easy to glide over, due to how emphasis is most drawn to his appearance. Vil is also an exceptional magician and a terrific potion-brewer, as hinted in Azul’s Ceremonial Robes SR, and aims to keep on top of all his subjects.

Hence, what makes a person’s — and a potential partner’s — soul shine through, in his view, is the attitude they employ towards a goal they truly believe in. That is his idea of beauty, at its core.

Drawing another example from canon; were Vil the type of person to value physical beauty over one’s hard-earned place, we wouldn’t see him as exasperated with Leona as we usually do. Vil despises his indolent attitude, and although he clearly dubs Leona ‘good looking’, on several occasions, he also considers it a waste of a potential weapon, on the Savannah Prince. What angers Vil is not Leona’s beauty but his lack of aspirations towards honing, what he considers, one of the rare weapons in his arsenal, against a competitive world. Not once has his ‘praise’ of Leona’s beautiful face, struck me as a compliment, made in awe or approval.

Vil is many things (good and bad), but what he isn’t is a willing obtuse buffoon like Leona. .

#vil schoenheit #twst vil #twisted wonderland vil #asks #anonymous #janulogue

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yuzukult · 3 years

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dissonance (teaser) || jjk & reader

title: dissonance pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, eventual smut (but teaser is smut free baby), fluff, rockstar!jungkook, gradstudent!reader teaser wc: 1,277 | full fic wc: tbd summary: something that first seems out of reach becomes a reality for him. screaming adoring fans, billboards with him and his band plastered on it, and touring across the globe with venues sold out. he has everything... but all he's missing is you. a/n: back at it again !! i honestly didn't think i'd come back with another jungkook fic but... i've always written series' for him so maybe this time lets dabble in a one-shot. :) enjoy this little teaser!

He loves it here. It’s his dream to be here, on the stage, with the feeling of the music rumbling underneath the soles of his chunky boots, the sea of fans screaming and hollering out his name with his self-produced songs booming through the speakers of the venue while his band stands by his side, just as passionate for this as he is.

It’s his dream; he reiterates this constantly as a reminder that this isn’t something everyone gets the chance to breathe the opportunity of. He’s been manifesting this scenario his entire life, wishing and praying to the potential Gods to help make his aspirations become a reality. He’d work his ass off to make ends meet, be able to afford the necessities all while chasing this goal that many claimed to be unrealistic or unattainable. But he’s here right now, supporters that flood the building to the brim for a concert that’s been sold out in thirty cities so far. He has everything he could ever want. Girls, money, music…

But why does he feel… like there’s something missing?

Another pair of panties gets thrown at the toes of his boots—it’s probably the sixth one that night but he’s grown used to this already. In some performances, girls would throw themselves at his feet instead of undergarments, yelling at the top of their lungs so ferociously that the security guards had to hold them back in fear of what they’re capable of. And sure, if he really wanted to, he could ask them out or invite them back to his hotel room for a quick bang, and it was what he’d been doing for the first couple years, and maybe they’ll make him feel a little less like this.

Albeit it doesn’t quite hit the same way anymore.

He’s left with this feeling of emptiness when he says his goodbyes and shuts the door behind them; there’s a gap in his chest like he’s forgotten something, yearning for it to be filled but those girls aren’t the ones to do it. His dreams used to be able to—but what are accomplished dreams when you have no one to share it with?

His friends/band mates are great, supportive and understanding, he’s admitted that he’s gotten lucky in that department, but part of him believes that it’s not friendship he’s lacking.

It’s love.

It sounds sappy to the ears of strangers, especially because ideally, you’re not supposed to depend on love to have that stuffing to the brim emotions in your chest, to feel complete and whole because a pretty person fell for you and vice versa. But to Jungkook, being in love had been something he thought he could toss under the rug for another day when he’d given up the girl he’d be infatuated with for this unobtainable aspiration, yet instead, he finds himself back in the same spot years later. Missing it.

He loved the chase—he’s a hopeless romantic kind of guy. After all, how would all of his songs be so full of raw emotions like that? It’s because Jungkook lives it—or well, lived it because everything he knew about love had been left on a shelf to collect dust. And he’d try to convince himself that he didn’t need someone, but he’d grown… lonely.

And quite frankly, finding someone genuine has proven to be difficult.

Don’t mention Tinder, Jungkook has already tried that. It promptly made headlines the moment he logged into that app with a selfie he’s never used before, and still then people actually thought he was catfishing, and wasn’t the real Jeon Jungkook. He should’ve known. But in all fairness, Jungkook isn’t much of a ‘future thinker.’

Then there was trying to date a staff member—worse idea yet. That noona ended up pissed at him when he realized that this isn’t what he wanted (he’d learn she was quite the control freak) and she flipped shit to the point that his managers fired her on the spot then informed the security that she was on the “do-not-enter” list.

After that, Jungkook just thought maybe he was going about this wrong.

Maybe, women weren’t actually of his interest.

Possibly, he was into men.

So, he tried. He ventured out a little, got a little taste here and there. Jungkook even found someone who fit him perfectly. His name? Kim Hyunwoo.

It worked out for a little, Jungkook admits, because Hyunwoo was overall a great boyfriend. He looked out for Jungkook, treated him well and they shared the same interests overall.

But… that was the problem.

They got along very well. As if they were best friends.

He found himself getting a bit uncomfortable when things got a little too serious—don’t get him wrong though, he honestly wasn’t embarrassed to be dating a guy. Hyunwoo was the definition of a model; handsome, tall with these sharp facial features. He’d been stopped and recruited several times during their dates, and truthfully, it made Jungkook feel a little awkward. He was the celebrity here, yet standing beside Hyunwoo only makes him feel small.

And in all honesty, he shouldn’t feel this way about the success of his significant other. But it wasn’t even just that. He found himself unable to pass first base with the guy—something about the action itself made him feel… discomfort. But he’s attracted to Hyunwoo. So why can’t he push himself to kiss him?

Jungkook learns maybe he finds men appealing but he can’t have more with them.

So, he goes back into the dating game. Met girls all over during his tour stops; he met a foreign girl named Lily, a gorgeous girl with pretty blonde hair and pale skin. But they didn’t click. He oddly felt like they weren’t ever on the same page. Then he went to dinner with a gal named—okay. He forgot her name. But the way her dress hugged her ass made his mind go blank, so could he really be blamed? (The answer is yes.) Oh! What about that girl whose name is similar to a hurricane? She had long, dark hair that matched her lengthy lashes that fluttered over her supple cheeks when she sucked his—

Nonetheless, it’s a dud again. He’s still lonely, he sadly confesses, but all of this is too much for him to process. He’s tired of getting his heart broken. He’s exhausted from meeting girls who first claimed that they’re not obsessed then actually are. He’s worn out of the ones who don’t love him for him, but love him for his fame.

Jungkook just wants to be loved for being… Jungkook.

And when he encounters you, some graduate student who spends majority of her days in between the activities of face dug into a textbook or eyes glued onto a computer screen, he thinks he’s back to where he was before this lifestyle. Jungkook finds himself swooning, desperately wishing for your touch and kisses, but there’s just one thing he doesn’t quite know.

Do you like Jungkook for Jungkook? Or do you like the ideal version of him that sings on stage, tossing off his shirt with his abs flexing while the crowd screams his name once more, all while the veins in his neck pop when he reaches that high note?

Or do you like Jungkook, the one who still doesn’t understand the difference between an orange and clementine, the one who still has trouble knowing when a potato is thoroughly cooked, and why his socks came out of the wash in this weird pinky shade when they definitely went in as white.

So… which is it? Which Jungkook are you interested in?

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts x fanfic #gyukultfics

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gammija · 3 years

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The final Web!Martin evidence list

Now that canon is done, and we’ve got word of god confirmation that Web!Martin wasn’t complete nonsense, I decided to go back to my lil chronological evidence list and actually clean it up a bit, delete parts that in hindsight weren't all that indicative, and put everything in a slightly more readable format. (Obligatory disclaimer that i don’t and never did believe or advocate for some kind of evil web!martin, and that I'm not intending to connect a moral judgement to martin (or anyone else for that matter) having some of these traits)

So here: The (hopefully, please) final list with Web!Martin Evidence! Presented in order of importance, according to. me

The final (hopefully) Web!Martin evidence list

(In order from most to least obvious)

Spiders

I mean, it’s called the Web. TMA reiterates quite a few times that Martin liked spiders. Sometimes it IS that easy.

MAG022: Martin: "I like spiders. Big ones, at least. Y’know, y’know the ones you can see some fur on; I actually think they’re sort of cute -"

MAG038: | Sasha: "A spider?" Jon: "Yeah. I tried to kill it…" [...] Sasha: [Chuckles] "Well, I won’t tell Martin." Jon: "Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem."

MAG059: Jon: "I have done my best to prevent Martin reading this statement in too much detail. I have no interest in having another argument about spiders."

MAG079: Jon: "Apparently, biologically, his account of the spiders doesn’t make any sense according to Martin."

MAG197: Martin: “What? Because I like spiders? Well, used to.”

Lies and subterfuge

Martin is able to use lying and subterfuge to achieve his goals, and is called manipulative a few times.

Lies:

MAG022: Martin: "[He] became slightly more co-operative after I lied to him and told him that one of the upstairs residents had buzzed me in."

MAG056: Martin: "I lied on my CV."

MAG158: Peter: “But you said –” Martin: “Honestly, I mostly just said what I thought you wanted to hear.”

MAG164: Jon: "You – I actually believed you!"

MAG189: Martin: “Sorry. Sorry, John. Not sure how much everything up there actually understood what was going on. But, y’know, I didn’t want to take any chances so it made sense to… um…” Jon: “Put on a show?” Martin: “Yeah, basically, more or less.”

MAG191: Martin: "That's not true." Arun: "Liar!"

Subterfuge:

The plan in 118, which revolved around convincing Elias that Martin was only “acting out”, to create a distraction for Melanie. (Also compare the way he evades giving a straight answer here with the way Annabelle talks in 196.)

Working with Peter in s4 under false pretenses, to distract him from Jon and eventually try to learn what Peter wanted.

Manipulation accusations:

These, I know, are somewhat contentious, since it’s mostly villains saying this to him. I’m still including them, since

1): From a media analysis standpoint, being mentioned 3 times is a sign to pay attention, even when it may not be the full truth.

2): I only see it as describing Martin’s behaviour in the previous points, not as a moral judgement; Especially since he almost always ‘manipulates’ people in positions of power over him.

Still, if it bothers anyone, feel free to ignore these.

MAG138: Martin: "That’s it? No, no monologue, no mind games? You love manipulating people!" Elias: "That makes two of us."

MAG186: Martin: “I can be a real manipulative prick, you know that?” Also Martin: “Oh yeah.”

MAG196: Annabelle: “Because you always managed to get what you wanted through smiles and shrugs and stammerings that weren’t nearly as awkward as they seemed.” [SMALL SOUND OF MARTIN’S CONCESSION TO THE POINT] Martin: “Point taken.”

The Lonely/the Web

The Lonely and the Web sometimes affect Martin to similar degrees.

In season 3, when Martin is getting used to reading statements for the first time, most of them leave him emotionally affected: MAG084, MAG088, MAG090,

MAG095: Martin: “S-S-Statement… done.” [HEAVY BREATHING & TREMBLING AS MARTIN STEADIES HIMSELF] “I don’t like recording these. There. I-I said it.”,

MAG098: Martin: [Panting] “End of statement.” [Deep breath] “I, um, I think I might need to sit down. Oh. Yeah, I am. Right. I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure if these are actually getting easier or harder. I mean I don’t feel –”

Only the last two statements he reads are remarkably easier. This might be a hint that Martin is just getting used to reading them, but the quote from MAG098 seems to contradict that. Either way, it’s likely not a coincidence that those last two happen to be the Lonely and the Web:

MAG108: Martin: “Statement ends.” (exhale) “That wasn’t so bad…”

MAG110: Martin: “Statement ends.” [...] “I mean, I think it sounds like a Jurgen Leitner book. About spiders. Hm. Good John didn’t have to read this one, anyway. I know he’s not a fan. Although, this one wasn’t too bad, actually! I – yeah. Anyway.”

In season 5, there are two powers’ Domains that actually affected Martin mentally, as opposed to only physically: the Lonely’s, in 170 (and arguably 186), and, depending on your interpretation, in 172, when Martin went exploring without knowing why he did so.

Proximity

Martin investigates a lot of the Web statements during season 1 to 3 (in other words, when the archive team still researches statements). The only ones he isn’t mentioned in during this period are MAG019 and MAG020, when he’s being harrassed by worms, and MAG081, which Jon records by himself outside of the institute.

Most notably, he’s the one who discovered the statement in MAG114, ‘Cracked Foundations’, which is the one statement in the entire show that sets up the interdimensional properties of HTR.

The Web!Lighter passed through Martin's hands first, before he gave it to Jon.

Similarly, Annabelle mostly spoke to Martin in season 5, despite most other Avatars usually focusing on Jon.

Aesthetics

Apart from the above obviously Web related areas, there are some other aesthetics which are mentioned in connection to both the Web and Martin, throughout canon.

These are describing the Web;

These are describing Martin.

Tapes:

Martin is the only character to treat the tape recorders as friends - any other character is either indifferent, or treats them as enemies.

MAG039: Martin: "I think the tapes have a sort of… low-fi charm."

MAG154 Martin: “Oh. Hi. Hello again.” … (small laugh) “Sorry pal, false alarm this time.”

MAG156 Martin: “Mm? Oh.” [HE LAUGHS, GENTLY.] “Yeah. (rustling paper) I was going to read one. Hate for you to miss it!” [SHORT, FORCED LAUGH, AS HE FLAPS THE STATEMENT AROUND.]

MAG170 Martin: “Oh. Oh, hello. What’s this? Wow, retro! What are you up to, little buddy; just – listening? That’s okay. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

MAG190 Jon: "[The tapes] seem to like [Martin]."

Retro:

MAG069: Statement: “I only saw Annabelle Cane once during this period. She wasn’t hard to pick out. She dressed like a vintage clothing store exploded on her, and her short bleach-blonde hair stood out sharply against dark skin.”

MAG160: Jon: “Anyways, don’t tell me the phonebox down there doesn’t appeal to your retro aesthetic.” Martin: “It – might. Maybe.”

MAG163: Annabelle/the Web callying Martin via an old payphone: [ A PHONE RINGS. IT’S NOT THE TINNY, ELECTRONIC SOUND OF A CELLPHONE – NO, THIS IS A TRUE, HEAVY, CLASSIC RING.] Martin: “Uh. John? Uh, J, John – the, uh, payphone that’s – here, for some reason – it’s ringing?”

Hatred of burns:

MAG067: Jack Barnabas’ statement: “I looked up and noticed within the corner of the room, where there had been a spider’s web this morning, there was just a faint wisp of smoke.” “Another held a bag that seemed to be full of candles, while a third had a clear plastic container filled with hundreds of tiny spiders.”

MAG139: Statement by member of Cult of the Lightless Flame: “The Mother of Puppets has always suffered at our hand; all the manipulation and subtle venom in the world means nothing against a pure and unrestrained force of destruction and ruin.” Agnes burned down Hilltop Road.

MAG145: The Web ties Gertrude to Agnes, stopping the Desolation’s ritual (the only Power whose ritual the Web is known to have prevented).

MAG167: Gertrude enlists Agnes’/the Desolation’s help in order to burn her assistant Emma, who was Web aligned.

MAG169: Martin: "Look, I just – don’t want to get burned, all right? It’s, it’s like my least favorite pain ever. [...] I, I legitimately hate burns, alright? They’re, they’re awful, and they scar horribly, and they just – it – it just makes me sick; I, I hate it. Hate it!"

Phrasing:

MAG039: Martin: "I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. [...] It's just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too. We all are, I think."

MAG079: Martin's poem: "The threads of people walking, living, lovi–"

MAG117: Martin: "This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good leaving my own little web. Oh, oh, Christ, I hope John doesn’t actually listen to these. “Good lord, is Martin becoming some sort of spider person?” No, John, it’s an expression, chill out! Besides, spiders are fine. I mean, yes, people are scared of them, obviously, but actual spiders, they just want to help you out with flies."

MAG167: Jon: “Methinks the Spider dost protest too much.” Martin: “Jon –” Jon: “Joking! Just joking.”

Personality:

How applicable these are depends heavily on how you interpret Martin's own personality, so your mileage may vary.

MAG008: Statement: “Nobody ever said a word against Raymond himself, though, who was by all accounts a kind and gentle soul [...]”

MAG123: Jon: "The Web does seem to have a preference for those who prefer not to assert themselves."

MAG147: Annabelles statement: "I discovered a deep and enduring talent inside myself for lying. [...] My manipulations were not intricate, but they were far beyond what was expected of a child my age, and I have always believed that the key to manipulating people is to ensure that they always under- or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans."

Word of God and Annabelle

I kinda wanted to ‘prove’ that Web!Martin had quite a bit of evidence to back it up, hence this header being last. But of course, in this post-canon world, there are a few lines that most obviously confirm the theory:

MAG197: Martin is Web enough to be able to read the 'vibrations', like Annabelle, and see Jon and Basira (the latter being especially notable, as he hadn't known she was there beforehand): [CHITTERING, BUZZING AND HIGH-PITCHED SQUEALS CHANGE CADENCE] Martin: "Wait… Wait, hang on, is that him?" Annabelle: "Yes. I guess you’re better with the Web than we thought." Martin: "And – Wait, ha– No, uh… is that… Basira? He – He’s got Basira with him!" Annabelle: "Yes."

Season 5 Q&A part 2: Jonny: “Essentially, it was fascinating looking at the fandom and, like, the Web!Martin believers, because what they were doing was correctly picking up on hints dropped in the early seasons that were later, like, not exactly abandoned, but it was much more like, ‘Well, no, he does have like aspects of The Web to him, but he is moreover The Lonely.’ And that came about very… very organically, really. Because throughout Season 3 and going into Season 4, we had this conversation and we were like, ‘No, actually he's like-” Alex: “‘It can't be, it cannot be, it must be the other way round’ Yeah.”

(Note that they say “throughout season 3 and going into season 4,” which likely means that season 1, season 2, and at least part of season 3, aka half of the entire show, were written with Web!Martin as an intentional possibility.)

If you read all that, thanks so much! Obviously, Web!Martin never really came to fruition, so it's fine if you still don't like it. This is just a post explaining where it was coming from, at least for me and the other theorists I've spoken to.

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma #tma s5 #web!martin #web martin #webmartin #or as jonny called it:#spider!martin #tma theory #tma meta #martin blackwood #martin k blackwood #martin #tma martin #magnuspod #i feel like i say this every time too but #when i say martin lies a lot i dont mean that #in comparison to 'normal people'#i mean that in canon he gets specifically mentioned to lie; at a higher rate than the other protagonists #ditto for everything else. im not speaking about real life people who might have these traits. im doing a media analysis #my own real life bedroom curtains being blue dont mean im depressed but in media sometimes aesthetic themes can be deeper signifiers #and tma especially has some very strong aesthetic themes #ok i think im done talking now. webmartin theories always get me rambling #EDIT: oops i changed a part on mobile and now the formatting is a bit fucked #ill fix it back tomorrow #if anyone cares #EDIT EDIT: ok fixed it

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phantomwarrior12 · 3 years

Text

Hanging On

He's a Warlord. He's perfected the art of combat throughout countless centuries. He has crushed opponents on the field of combat and within the arenas of the Crucible. He is a force to be reckoned with - that he can say with absolute certainty - but this? This is not combat.

It had been...at the beginning. They were sparring; the battle was rapid and calculated and fearsome but then - then her demeanor shifted. She'd started to dance away from every blow with a lightness to her step he never saw on the battlefield but rather, in the Tower after a well-executed prank on Lord Saladin. The kind of step that was a playful and, dare he suggest, mischievous. It was only a matter of time before she'd found a way to slip past him and then found a way onto his back despite his best efforts. Now she's wrapped around him like some sort of koala. Her arms locked around his neck, her legs crossed - albeit just barely - around his ribs.

This isn't sparring anymore.

If the Warlord had wanted to, he could have escaped the instant she'd locked her arms around his neck. He could find the closest wall and crush the substantially smaller Hunter between his spine and the stone until her grip falters or simply drag her over his shoulder by her hood. Or even break the feeble grip her legs have to cause a loss of leverage. The Crucible doesn't know the concept of mercy nor does its handler on any other occasion, and yet, something stops him.

Perhaps it's the subtle clink of her helmet against his each time he twists or reaches for her, or the soft laugh he'd heard the instant he'd reacted to her newfound perch.

It's been so long since he's heard her laugh.

"Guardian?"

He feels her shift, rest her chin as best she can on his shoulder. He's come to recognize it as her way of letting him know that he has her full attention.

"What are you doing?"

She squeezes him lightly with her legs. No doubt her idea of a playful gesture and it takes all he has not to laugh.

"We're supposed to be sparring."

You are. She has you in a hold you haven't been able to escape yet. Her Ghost supplies helpfully.

The Young Wolf gives him another squeeze and his heart soars. He tosses a glance toward the score and realizes, for once, the score is close and what's more, its low. She's spent more time messing around than actually sparring and after the hellish few weeks she's had - one mission after another that robbed her of the energy to spare for a match - Lord Shaxx isn't certain pushing this as an actual competition is a good idea.

Instead, his hand settles over the clasped hands around his neck and squeezes affectionately.

"Perhaps it's wisest to forfeit this match then as I doubt I'll be capable of breaking such a vice grip."

There it is. Another soft laugh before she nuzzles into the wrap along the side of his neck.

Undoubtedly. Ghost returns on her behalf.

"Arcite, call the match...yes, I'm aware she has advantage. No, just mark it off as a victory for her."

She clinks her helmet against his once again as a thank you and he chuckles softly.

"You're welcome, my little Hunter." He turns his head toward her slightly, "Clearly, this is the most decisive victory you've ever had."

She snorts softly, slowly starting to unlock her legs around his ribs but his grip on her hands doesn't loosen to allow her the short drop to the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The match is over. Her Ghost voices her confusion.

"This match, yes. But I believe we have one to attend to in private."

He feels the tension surge along her frame, back straightening slightly as her thoughts no doubt race in time with her heartbeat. Her fingers fidget beneath his, uncertain yet awkward and he gives them a gentle squeeze.

Private match? Ghost questions cautiously.

"Of course," he turns his head slightly to look at her, "Nothing we haven't done before, Guardian."

Her eyes have widened, of that he is certain. She tries to pry one hand from beneath his, likely to swat at him, but he tightens his hold until she resigns her efforts and squeezes him pointedly. She's flustered, perhaps embarrassed in a way by his boldness, but he'll call it revenge for the thrown matches.

Of course, he can't drag this out too long. His goal was to tease, not antagonize, after all. He supposes now is as good a time as any to let her off the hook of his joke.

"It involves a prolonged period of my bear-hold restraint." He says at last, making no effort to conceal the smug undertone in his voice.

She slouches forward with a sigh of relief and the Warlord can't quite contain his laughter.

So, cuddling. Ghost sighs.

"Bear-hold restraint," the Warlord reiterates, feigning sternness. "I believe it's an adequate counter to your koala grip, Guardian."

She tightens her hold around his neck, squeezing armored ribs with her legs in tandem as if to emphasize his point. She couldn't do any real damage to him in this position unless she activated her super. Still, he chuckles softly as he carries her like a backpack toward the portal out of the training arena, arms locked around her thighs.

He can feel her rest her head against his shoulder, all four appendages relaxing as much as they can without sending her tumbling onto her ass as they approach the portal.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, my little Hunter. I can't very well catch you if you fall."

She nods against his shoulder before lifting her head just as they step through the portal. He begins the trek toward their shared quarters, acutely aware of her nodding off against him. He leans forward a bit more, her frame slouching against his back as her arms fall to her sides.

"Seems you were tired after all," the Titan remarks softly. He finds the nearest crate, gingerly kneeling down to set her on top of it, keeping one hand clamped around her arm as he gets up and turns to face her. It only takes a moment to pick her up again and carry her to the room.

With the door closed, he moves toward the bed, "Ghost, some assistance, please."

Of course. He transmats her armor away, swiftly replacing it with a hoodie and shorts as the Titan lays her on the mattress. "Thank you." He says softly as he leans down, lifting her helmet off and sets it on the dresser beside their bed. She's sound asleep, how she'd even managed to summon the energy for the match, he isn't sure.

As he straightens up, he signals his own Ghost to remove his armor as he makes his way around the bed and sets his helmet on the bedside table before sliding in beside her. As he tugs the blankets up, she snuggles up against his chest, forcing him to pause until she settles. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as his arms wind around her smaller frame and he presses a soft kiss into her hair.

There will be time enough for combat tomorrow. For now, he'll hold her, just as he always has and always will.

Sleep well, Guardian.

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

Taglist are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @genken64 @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 Shaxx's Guardians: @ataraxia101 @squirrel-stars @rain-wolfe

#shaxx x guardian #lord shaxx x guardian #lord shaxx #shaxx #the young wolf #destiny 2 #destiny #destiny fanfiction #destiny fic #phantom writes

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nonbinarylowkey · 3 years

Text

collar

Rating: Explicit. MINORS: DO NOT TOUCH! Pairing: Loki/Reader Summary: On the last night of Chanukah, your true love gave to you... a collar. So you decide to test it out. Just, maybe, not in the way he was expecting. Note: Posted this on ao3 a lot earlier in the day, but now that I’m home and can format this properly, it’s finally going up here! Woo! Anyway, the Loki trailer dropped on the first night of Chanukah + the last night of Chanukah was Loki’s birthday so naturally these two things combined in my brain and led to this. Hope you enjoy it! It’s sub!Loki.

Loki Laufeyson looks good in a collar.

Like, criminally good, you think, walking circles around him. You trail your index finger along the top edge of the collar as you go.

He shivers.

Loki kneels on the plush grey carpet of your bedroom floor, knees spread wide to give you the best possible view. His pants are unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. He's not wearing underwear tonight, you discovered when you first started this game, and so the head of his cock peeks out from the open waistband. His hands are restrained behind his back. His shirt never made it to the bedroom.

"I'm waiting," he says when you finish your circle and take your place in front of him.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "And you'll continue to wait until I've decided what to do with you."

"You are a cruel mistress," he shakes his head, but the cheeky grin on his face betrays his somber tone.

You pull the golden leash toward you; Loki falls forward with it, his face nicely cushioned by the area between your thighs. You run a hand through his hair and take advantage of the places where your fingers snag in his curls by pulling his head back so that he is looking straight up at you. Even in this position, defiance colors every inch of him. His shoulders are set back, his spine straight. The set of his jaw is stiff, giving his smile a distinctly sinister look.

You lick your lips.

"If you didn't want me to be cruel, you shouldn't have gotten me a collar for Chanukah."

"Ah, but you were meant to be the one wearing it," he nuzzles his cheek against you.

"But you look so good in it, Mischief. How could I resist?" You kneel down to kiss him, laughing as you catch his grinning lips with yours. Your content to stay like that, sharing breathy laughs with each other while your mouths move against one another. But Loki is not content in one position for very long so when he starts grinding himself against your leg, give a sharp nip to his lip. "Be good for me, please?"

" Goodness is not in my nature."

"Well then, maybe I should break out the strap. Deprive your cock of any fun tonight." You run your finger along the collar again, then press your thumb to his Adam's apple just above it.

His tongue drags a slow trail along his lips.

"Oh, please do deprive me," he says in a tone that lets you know he wouldn't actually consider the strap a deprivation at all.

"Right," you roll your eyes. You glance at the bed behind Loki, looking for inspiration. How to make the God of Mischief behave… "Maybe I should just tie you to the bedpost while I get myself off."

A hiss catches your attention. Loki's teeth are bared now and he's glaring.

Hit the nail right on the head , you think.

You make your way over to the bed, twirling the leash around your finger as you go. The knot you tie the leash into around the post is loose; it's definitely something Loki could undo with little to no effort on his part. But it gets your threat across all the same. You perch on the side of the bed closest to him. One of your hands slips under the waistband of your shorts. You're wet already; the sight of Loki at your mercy ensured that much. Your fingers slip inside your folds easily; an exaggerated moan drives home the idea of what Loki will be missing if he doesn't agree to be good.

He growls.

For a moment, your touch lingers on your clit. You rub slow, gentle circles over it, careful not to work yourself up too much; despite your teasing you weren't going to keep Loki from all the fun. You twist your hand so your thumb continues to press at your clit while you sink two fingers into yourself.

It isn't enough. You grind into your hand, trying to get the same fulfillment from your own touch as you would from Loki. Lower lip caught between your teeth, you groan in frustration.

"You only torment yourself by keeping me tied," he said through gritted teeth. It was a commendable show of restraint that he didn't just break out of his restraints; one you thought you might have rewarded if the game wasn't so amusing.

"Maybe I like torment."

He snorts, "I reiterate: you should be the one in the collar."

"Hush, you," you stick your tongue out at him. It's a decidedly unsexy thing to do. You take your hand out of your shorts and stick your fingers out to him.

Loki takes your fingers into his mouth without question. His gaze burns into yours as his tongue swirls around your digits; he is a man dying of thirst presented with a cool glass of water. When he's gotten all he can from your fingers, he pulls back, teeth dragging across your skin. It makes you feel powerful, even if you have no idea what to do with the power.

"Undress me. No hands," you leave your perch on the bed so that you can hook a finger underneath his collar. You pull his head up; eyes on you. "No magic, either. Just your mouth."

"Is that all?" He asks. Anticipation leaves his breaths heavy; an open mouthed smirk adorns his lips as he tries to keep it under control. The effect is entirely indecent.

Is it too late to give up the game and just let him fuck you?

"It's a start."

In his enthusiasm, Loki manages to get some skin when he latches on to the fabric of your shorts. It stings in the best way, amplifying the want flowing through your body and the drag of his nose as his mouth reveals more of your skin. He abandons your shorts when he reaches your center. He breathes your scent in and presses his nose to your clit, nuzzling.

You suck in a breath. The game dictates that you reprimand him for acting without permission. You don't want to. Instead you pull on his collar to bring him closer, to invite more of his willfulness.

He complies, most eagerly.

Loki's tongue delves deep, reaching places no one else had ever bothered to find. And while he is eager about what he's doing, he makes sure to go slow; to savor every last drop his mouth can find. To torture you. And you're pretty sure he's trying to torture you for even suggesting that he wouldn't get to touch you.

"Fuck, Loki," you moan, gripping his hair tight in your hand.

"Yes, fucking is the goal here," he laughs against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core.

You buck into his mouth. You need more and your body is reaching the limits of its patience. So you push him away and, startled, he falls on his ass. Despite your growing impatience, you do take a moment to admire the sight of him. His face is coated with your wetness, a mark of his passion for the taste of you. The collar and matching leash sparkle in the room's lights and his arms remain restrained behind his back - all evidence of his trust and willing submission to you.

With his hands restrained, he's no help in getting his pants off. You don't bother trying to get them off all the way. Shoving them halfway down his thighs is enough that his cock is fully free. And with his pants out of the way, you straddle him in one breath and only leave the space of one more before you bury his cock into your heat. You tug on his arms.

"Touch me," you demand.

Obediently, he frees his arms of the spell he'd used to restrain them. He runs his hands over your thighs, up your hips and waist, and then retraces that path back down. He touches you everywhere he can reach, memorizing each bump and blemish and stretch of skin that you offer to him. He tangles a hand in your hair, uses the grip to pull you down for a kiss; the fact his face is still covered in your juices is no deterrent for him. He wants you to taste what he does to you, wants to remind you that although he is the only one wearing a collar tonight, you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you.

"Shall we take this to the bed?" He asks. But he doesn't give you the chance to to answer before he's moving the two of you off the floor.

You don't even really manage to follow how he does it. All you know is that one moment the two of you are on the floor and the next your back is hitting the mattress while Loki looms above you.

"I thought I was supposed to be in charge?" You wrap your legs around his waist.

He nuzzles your neck, "Always, my queen. So much so that you needn't use words for me to know what you desire of me."

"Silvertongue," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

All talking stops when he kisses you, open mouthed, and sliding that silvertongue of his against your own. He lines himself up with your entrance, once more burying himself inside of you. It feels like he's come home to you, always; no matter how many times you're together like this, it's a homecoming.

Then he's moving, rolling his hips slowly, deliberately against you at first; you can hardly breathe for the sensation he sparks within your body. But it isn't long before he speeds his movements up. He grows frantic and rough, pushes one of your legs down into the mattress so that he can go deeper inside of you. He swallows each of your cries, keeping the noises he forces from you all for himself. He's selfish, you see, and he wants to keep your moans and shouts and pleas for more all to himself. There are other ways to show the world that you belong to each other; your noises are all for him.

You reach your climax both too soon and too slowly. You try to keep your eyes open, you want to see Loki when you reach your peak. But you're feeling too much. It's all too overwhelming so you squeeze your eyes shut and press your face into his neck because if you can't see him, you can at least try to mold yourself to him so that you never have to be apart.

Loki isn't far behind you. He murmurs desperate I love yous and my queens and other endearment as he comes. You're too far gone to understand the words, but the sentiment comes through all the same when his hips stutter against yours and he spills into you.

Silence falls over the room in the aftermath. His forehead is pressed against yours, breath intermingling in the small space between your faces.

Your fingers fumble with the collar's clasp. When it unlatches, it falls to the floor, forgotten.

"Was I good enough for you, my love?" He falls to his side, maneuvering you until you're lying on your side facing him with his arms wrapped securely around you. One of your legs is propped up on his hip.

You trace his mouth with one finger, "You've certainly got a mouth on you, I'll tell you that."

He smirks and catches your finger with his teeth, nibbling just a little bit on the first knuckle.

"But, yeah, I'd say you were more than good enough," you laugh. "Happy birthday, Lokes."

"Happy Chanukah," he responds.

#loki x reader #sub!loki #loki smut #loki fic #loki fluff #my writing #i'm so bad at tagging fics on here #jewish reader

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halstudandruz · 3 years

Text

Had Me By Halftime

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Based off the song Had Me By Halftime by Morgan Wallen

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I know this game was on a Monday but we’re gonna pretend it wasn’t. Also I know there’s different rules to cornhole, but I did the 21 or bust version for sake of the story.

You were talkin' trash, we were tossin' bags

When I caught your name at a corn hole game

You and your friends had decided to tailgate at the Chicago Bears game. You were in your last semester of college and your group had collectively decided to forego buying tickets. Not wanting nosebleed seats, but knowing your broke college student bank account would not offer many other options. The parking lot was crowded with Bears fans; scattered Minnesota Vikings fans sticking out in the crowd. It was surprisingly warm for a Chicago October. You had just finished a game of flip cup and informed your friends you were going to get food from a nearby food truck, your best friend, Madison tagging along. You hadn’t made it far from your group when you made eye contact with a handsome man. Slowly walking you heard him talking to a man about the same age as him,

“Adam come on!” He exclaimed.

“I am not playing against him, he might as well be a pro.” The brown haired man shook his head.

“Don’t take it out on me cause I’m better than you.” Another good-looking brown-haired man from the group laughed shrugging and throwing an arm around a pretty blonde girl who wasn’t even paying attention to the men, already conversing with a group of girls. The handsome dark skinned man groaned seemingly pouting. Grabbing Madison’s arm you stopped her to pull her over to the group.

“You need a couple players?” You smiled gesturing to the corn hole boards.

“Actually yeah we do.” He nodded.

“Let’s roll.” You challenged taking your place by the board and picking up the orange bean bags. Madison sighed already reading your dirty thoughts about the man as she walked to the board opposite of you and the broad muscled man took his place next to you, gathering the navy blue bags. “Let me just get you a menu cause you’re about to get served.” You joked and luckily he let out an adorable laugh.

“That’s the best you got?” He sported a wide smile causing you to instantly blush.

“Yeah...sorry I’m not the best at trash talking. My game usually speaks for itself.” You shrugged, turning to throw the bean bag on the board Madison stood by. Watching it slide right through the center. Humming he looked at you impressed, gearing up when you threw him a seductive smirk.

“Let the games begin.” He grinned.

The game was close, full of playful banter, and maybe a little flirting from you and the man you now knew was named, Kevin. Luckily you and Madison came out on top thanks to Kevin’s partner’s accidental bust over 21 taking their score back down to 13.

“Ruz, you might want to take up a math class in your spare time.” Kevin teased, knowing he only aimed for the board because of his poor math skills.

“Shut up.” He attempted to throw a bag at him, but it fell short. “I’m never playing this game again.” Adam huffed, walking away.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You shrugged, winking at him.

Said "Girl, where you sitti'g? I got an extra ticket

It's right on the 50"

“Sorry. He gets a little competitive.” Kevin smiled, “Thanks for playing though.” He leaned against the side of a truck crossing his arms. Madison stood awkwardly a couple feet away as you two flirted with each other.

“Thanks for letting us. It was nice to do something other than a drinking game for once.” You chuckled gesturing to where your group was now playing beer pong.

“Where are you guys sitting?” He asked gesturing to the stadium behind him.

“Oh we actually don’t have tickets. Just here to tailgate.” You explained and his smile got slightly bigger.

“Well I actually have an extra ticket. It’s right on the 50 if you want to join me?” He offered.

“Thanks, but I don’t want to just leave my group hanging..” You contemplated looking back at Madison who was nodding quickly mouthing the word “Go!” Sighing you turned back towards him with a smile, “you know what. What the hell why not?” You pushed the tingling of your body deeper down at his happy grin.

You had a 16 home team jersey on

Singin' every word to the fight song

Had your airplane bottles from your purse out

“Okay. I have to ask. Why are you wearing that jersey?” Kevin asked, sitting down beside you.

“Because we’re at...a Bears game?” You looked at him skeptically, causing him to laugh.

“Obviously.. I mean why O’Donnell? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen someone actually wearing his jersey.” He explained.

“Well I do like to be an outlier,” you joked, “punters never get the credit they should. Same with kickers. They deserve more love.” You answered.

“Good to know you’re not a bandwagon fan.” He said.

“We won one super bowl 35 years ago and we just benched our newly signed QB for a rookie. I don’t think there’s any wagon for someone to hop on.” You retorted.

“You got me there.” He agreed watching you pull a few tiny bottles of alcohol out of your small bag you had strategically hidden to make it past security.

“You a fan of fireball? I hate it but it came with the pack.” You asked, turning to see an amused grin covering his face. “What?”

“How in the hell did you sneak those in here?” He inquired.

“Can’t give away all my secrets on the first date.” You shrugged, wiggling your eyebrows. He took it from your hand nudging Adam who sat on his other side. Adam took it graciously.

“Hell yeah. We’re keeping her!” He exclaimed, twisting the cap off to take the shot.

The first half of the game was rough. Only lucking out with a safety in the first quarter.

“I hope to god Trubisky starts to prove he has more than just a pretty face.” You shook your head preparing yourself for the second half. You and Kevin had talked throughout all of halftime, and you caught him staring with a wide smile more than once as you might’ve got a little too competitive throughout the first and second quarter.

“I could play better defense than his line is. Kev, get down there you know how to tackle people.”

“He does realize he’s supposed to be throwing it to his own team right?”

“Fucking 2 yards isn’t gonna get you anywhere!” Were just a few things you remember spouting off.

“This is ridiculous.” You threw up your hands when Rudolph took it into the Vikings endzone.

With 5:33 left in the 3rd quarter O’Donnell took the field for the punt, but instead to everyone’s surprise the punt is faked and #16 puts up a pass to Cunningham who runs it in for the touchdown. “Oh my god!” You jumped up and down, “No fucking way! That’s my man!” You yelled pulling Kevin in for a hug who was in utter disbelief.

“I cannot believe that just happened.” He laughed, cheering with the crowd. The fans were hyped watching Barth kick it between the posts.

“Believe it baby!

Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the way to victory;

Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so fearlessly.

We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation with your T-formation.

Bear down, Chicago Bears, and let them know why you're wearing the crown.

You're the pride and joy of Illinois, Chicago Bears, bear down.” You sang along loudly to the Bears’ fight song roaring throughout Soldier Field. The second half was much more heated than the first, but unfortunately thanks to a successful kick from Forbath in the last few seconds the Vikings took home the win.

You would've thought that post-game

Kiss would've made me wanna make you mine

But you had me by halftime

Everyone was starting to file out of the stadium, Kevin’s group included.

“You comin?” Adam turned to you both.

“You wanna wait till the crowds disperse a little?” Kevin asked and you smiled nodding.

“We’ll be waiting for you.” Adam winked, a knowing smirk covering his face as he grabbed tightly ahold of Kim’s hand to lead her through the crowd.

“You would’ve had to keep a tight hold on me. I’m small and can get lost easily.” You joked, body frame tiny compared to his broad muscular one.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I do regardless.” Kevin flirted, looping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

“I told you. Punters and kickers, they don’t get enough credit.” You reiterated, “I mean how often does the game come down to a field goal? Too often in my opinion.”

“I can give you kicker I’m not sure about punters though.” He looked at you amused.

“Did you miss that play?” You scoffed.

“And how often does that happen? I’m sure you didn’t buy his jersey banking on that.” He replied.

“Yeah, alright. I just thought O’Donnell was better looking than Barth.” You admitted.

“You really know your football though.” He observed.

“I grew up with three brothers. It just came with the territory.” You explained.

“Three brothers?” He looked over at you, a faint look of fear appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure you could take any of them though.” You bit your lip squeezing his bicep to get your point across.

“Is that so?” He grinned face inches away from yours.

“Mhmm.” You hummed searching his eyes, begging him to make the move and he did. Closing the distant for a gentle, smooth kiss. His hand caressing your cheek to pull you closer. This is nowhere near what you expected your day to turn into when you got up this morning. You were just supposed to be tailgating with your friends too drunk for your own good. Instead you were seated inside the stadium making out with a guy you had just met this morning. Not that you were complaining, but what were the chances?

“Was that okay?” He asked lips still slightly brushing against yours and as an answer you gripped his face pulling him in for a deep bruising kiss that had him groaning low in his throat. Pulling away to get a breath you looked around to see very few people still seated, a warmth buzzing throughout your body despite the chilly fall air becoming more prominent.

“We better get out of here before we get in trouble.” You whispered. And he nodded tightly clasping your hand in his as you made your way out of the stadium back out into the parking lot.

Now every time the leaves start fallin' down

I get to thinkin' 'bout

5 years later

“Kev, can you check on the pizza while I get Carsyn dressed?” You asked after seeing your daughter stir from her nap on the monitor. Walking in her room you retrieved her from the crib. She was all smiles and giggles. “Well I take it you had a good nap.” You kissed her chubby cheek, attempting to flatten her bed head before laying her on the floor to get her dressed. “Daddy is just gonna be head over heels when he sees you. Not that he isn’t already.” You smiled trying to slide her tights on despite her wiggling legs. Succeedingly picking her up 10 minutes later. “Look who’s awake daddy.” You caught Kevin’s attention as he turned away from the stove to take her from your arms.

“You didn’t.” Kevin laughed, a smile wide on his face when he took his daughter into his arms admiring the outfit she was sporting. A blue tutu accompanied by an orange jersey that repped the #16, outfit topped off with a Chicago Bears bow. “Well don’t you just look adorable. Yes, you take after your mama.” Kevin laid kisses all over her face erupting numerous giggles from her. “Where’d you even find this at?” He asked and you knew what he was talking about without even turning around as you took the pizza out of the oven.

“I had to specially order it as one of those custom name jerseys. Seems they don’t make O’Donnell’s jersey for babies.” You laughed checking on the wings in the air fryer when a knock at the door interrupted. Adam and Kim strolling their way into the kitchen minutes later.

“Where’s my girl?” Adam asked, spotting her in Kevin’s arms. Carsyn immediately reached out for Adam. “There she is and aren’t you just the cutest Bears fan in the whole world?” He tickled her stomach taking in her outfit, “Gotta say [Y/L/N] it looks better on her.” He joked gesturing to your identical jersey.

“Joke all you want this jersey got me a husband.” You leaned up on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on Kevin’s cheek.

The rest of your crew arrived not too much later. Hailey and Jay bringing along their son who was a few months younger than Carsyn. This was now a football season tradition and you loved every minute of it.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3 @wanniiieeee

#kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater imagine #kevin atwater #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #Chicago pd #one chicago imagine #one chicago

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boysenberrysoda · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on 302: The Blame, The Guilt, The Responsibility

Those are three different things, and all of them are addressed in chapter 302 -- who is to blame, who carries guilt, and who should take responsibility when it comes to dealing with Dabi.

The narrative makes it pretty clear that the blame falls on Enji and, to an extent, Rei.

Enji, obviously, because he consciously and explicitly had a son for the sole purpose of living vicariously through him, by placing his own unmet expectations on a child’s shoulders, and then washing his hands of him when his son couldn’t meet those expectations. And then did it again, all while Touya knew he’d been 1) born for a reason, 2) unable to fulfill that reason, 3) replaced.

When confronted with the despair he’d caused his son, Enji’s go-to response was to deny and shift the blame. He’s depicted as being wreathed in shadows, only his furious eyes visible, whenever he does this; he’s clearly in the wrong here. He did have the power to acknowledge and care for his children -- he just refused to see anything beyond competitive pro-heroism, time and time again.

It’s only now that he’s seen what’s become of Touya that he’s finally accepted he could have done something different. That he shouldn’t have, in fact, basically thrown away his children when they proved to not suit his own goals.

Rei, in contrast, doesn’t deny her own agency in the situation. Yes, she was in a terrible position, and must have certainly felt powerless -- but she wasn’t some plastic bag being blown away by the wind all her life. She made choices.

She agreed to a quirk marriage knowing Enji wanted a tool more than a son, thoughts mostly on how to bear a loveless marriage and not, I suspect, on what that would do to her (then-hypothetical) son. As far as we know, she didn’t oppose putting the weight of “be strong enough to beat All Might” on Touya, only objected to replacing him so cruelly when Enji decided he’d never be able to.

That’s as far as blame can be placed on Rei. She did try to help Touya, tried to talk him into living his life for his own sake, and never mind his father’s goals and attention. She just... couldn’t do it.

(tbh I’d still place, like, 85% of the blame on Enji, but listen. We stan responsible parenting. It says good things about Rei that she reflects on her choices and acknowledges mistakes.)

Guilt is a whole other matter.

Now this is my personal opinion, but I don’t think victims are to blame for having mental breakdowns when people who have power over them “get worse”. Guilt is a natural response when you hurt someone, whether you meant to or not. Guilt helps us identify right from wrong; it's not necessarily a bad thing to feel.

However --

(Fuyumi, nooooo-)

Misplaced guilt is just torture.

Neither Fuyumi nor Natsuo (nor Shouto!!!) had any blame in this situation. Fuyumi’s comment especially hurts my heart because this is a child who felt responsible for her parent’s emotional stability, who blames herself for not preventing the emotional outbursts of her caretakers when she was barely a teenager herself.

This is where the difference between guilt and responsibility comes in.

Well, Rei may be right -- if someone you care about has a mental break, you do have a responsibility to help if you can at all help them (this is, again, an opinion, since I know some people would dispute it...) because you love them, and whatever pain they carry you also bear -- but this has nothing to do with Fuyumi’s last statement.

Fuyumi wasn’t expressing familial responsibility, she was expressing misplaced guilt. So was Natsuo, to a degree (though I think he felt more regret than guilt), but Fuyumi’s comment was really out there! She could not have in any way fixed her parent’s problems. And it’s messed up that no one addressed this.

From a narrative perspective, I guess it wouldn’t make sense for someone to address it; it would divert the scene. It’s supposed to be a scene about the Todorokis coming together (and maybe set up something with Hawks and BJ), and any heart-to-hearts should serve this purpose. BNHA, a shonen manga, doesn’t focus on the comfort when it can focus on the action.

But why have Fuyumi say anything at all? Why have her say that?

I am not offering an answer, I am once again questioning Horikoshi’s understanding of the situation, his depiction of child abuse and neglect.

Is he trying to bring realism to story (”this is how a real person would feel, and they likely wouldn’t be corrected”)? Or is he framing the statement as the truth (”Fuyumi is correct in feeling this guilt, so no one is going to address it”)? Is he conflating guilt with blame and responsibility?

(Isn’t analysis fun?)

So to reiterate:

Those who hold the blame are those whose actions led to this happening.

The Todorokis feeling guilty is a natural reaction, if sometimes misplaced.

That they all hold themselves responsible for whatever happens next doesn’t necessarily mean they are at fault for Touya becoming Dabi -- at least, it shouldn’t. Duty to family is, you know, a thing that exists outside of guilt.

Stop shitting on Rei for saying they all have a responsibility. Stop blaming her for the wrong things. Woops.

#bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha 302 #mha spoilers #abuse cw #neglect cw #todoroki rei #todoroki family #todofam #todoroki touya #dabi #text #long post #meta #if you read all of it you're a trooper #ahahaha yeah i had an agenda #this is a pro-rei blog #boysen breaks their vow of silence

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Text

BeeTober 2020 Day 12

Gate - Change

Day 12 of Beetober brings more of my MXY&NMJ fic from BeeTober 2020 Day 5, because that definitely needed more exploring, and this time MXY will get to protect those he loves.

Mo Xuanyu has never felt as safe as he does in the Unclean Realm, at Nie Mingjue’s side, but it all threatens to come tumbling down when Nie Mingjue announces that his sworn brothers will come for a visit.

To say that Mo Xuanyu panics would be an understatement.

Mo Xuanyu trusts Nie Mingjue, but he loves Lan Xichen like a brother, and Lan Xichen loves Jin Guangyao, so should Jin Guangyao really want to see him gone then Nie Mingjue—he would—he will—

“Breathe,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says, his hand on Mo Xuanyu’s neck again and Mo Xuanyu takes a shuddering breath.

“Don’t give me back,” Mo Xuanyu whispers as he clutches at Nie Mingjue’s forearm. “Please, don’t.”

“There is nowhere to give you back to,” Nie Mingjue tells him and squeezes his neck. “You’re my disciple. What was before doesn’t matter. You’re with me now.”

Mo Xuanyu closes his eyes at those words, and lets out something that sounds too much like a sob.

“You’re safe with me, Xuanyu,” Nie Mingjue reiterates again and Mo Xuanyu never had much reason to trust anyone, but he trusts him.

If Nie Mingjue says he’s safe, then he is.

“Okay,” he agrees and Nie Mingjue nods at him. “But I can be safe from very far away, right?” Mo Xuanyu asks, only half joking and Nie Mingjue frowns at him.

“You’re my right hand, Xuanyu. You’re going to be there.”

Mo Xuanyu had known that would be the answer, of course he had, because Nie Mingjue trusted him more than he maybe should, considering that he only came to the Nie Sect a few months ago, and so he only gives a resigned nod.

“Of course I am,” he whispers and Nie Mingjue gives him a blinding smile.

“Good. Then just imagine how much he’s going to hate to see you at my side, and let that carry you through the day,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Mo Xuanyu has to admit, that thought is more than entertaining.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, careful to keep his voice low enough that Nie Mingjue can pretend not to have heard him, since Mo Xuanyu is still a little bit afraid that Nie Mingjue is going to snap one day.

Old habits die hard, Mo Xuanyu thinks, and even when Nie Huaisang repeatedly tells him that he has nothing to fear from his da-ge, Mo Xuanyu can sometimes hardly believe he’s right.

“I have to be with a brother like Huaisang and a right hand man like you,” Nie Mingjue gives back, his attention already on the letter, informing him of Lan Xichen’s and Jin Guangyao’s visit. “You would overthrow me in a second if I weren’t.”

Mo Xuanyu has to admit that maybe Nie Mingjue is right, but he still has Nie Zonghui by his side.

Sure, he adores Nie Huaisang and he seems to like Mo Xuanyu well enough, too, but Mo Xuanyu has no doubt that his first priority will always be Nie Mingjue.

“Not if your guard dog gets us first,” Mo Xuanyu says, mainly to keep his thoughts away from the impending visit, and he can feel Nie Zonghui’s glare in his back.

“Careful,” Nie Mingjue mutters. “He bites.”

Mo Xuanyu sticks out his tongue when he’s certain Nie Mingjue won’t see it and then he goes off to prepare for the visit of Nie Mingjue’s sworn brothers.

So far he managed to stay out of Jin Guangyao’s eyes when he dropped by, but of course that had to end at some point.

Lan Xichen knows he’s here after all, and Mo Xuanyu is under no impression that he told Jin Guangyao about it as well.

So far he hasn’t reacted to that, but Mo Xuanyu’s luck had to run out at some point.

He just hopes he can survive this meeting.

~*~*~

“Would you just trust me,” Nie Mingjue whispers from where they are waiting at the gate for Lan Xichen’s and Jin Guangyao’s arrival, when Mo Xuanyu continues to shift behind him.

“I do,” Mo Xuanyu gives back, and he’s surprised to find that he means it, too. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

Nie Mingjue mutters “Fair enough” under his breath, right before Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao come into sight.

Lan Xichen is smiling brightly at both of them, but Jin Guangyao’s eyes immediately fall on Mo Xuanyu and Mo Xuanyu has to fight the urge to run away and hide.

“Da-ge!” Lan Xichen greets Nie Mingjue and gently elbows Jin Guangyao when he’s not quick enough to follow.

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao dutifully says, much more subdued than Lan Xichen, and his eyes never leave Mo Xuanyu.

“I see that illegitimate children are held in high esteem here,” Jin Guangyao snarls when Mo Xuanyu doesn’t cower under his gaze like he surely expected him to.

“I give everyone the same chance,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back. “Even to sons of whores,” he tacks on and then turns around to lead them into the hall.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t see the hate flare up on Jin Guangyao’s face, but Mo Xuanyu learned to fear that look, so he instantly recognizes it, and he keeps his head bowed as he follows them.

Once they are all settled down, Mo Xuanyu watches with growing unease how Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue update each other on the important news, while Jin Guangyao keeps silent.

At least until his first cup of tea is gone.

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao says, rather rudely interrupting Lan Xichen’s and Nie Mingjue’s conversation.

“Yes?” Nie Mingjue asks, but by the tension in his shoulders Mo Xuanyu can tell that this is what he was waiting for.

“Are you not aware of who this person to your right is?” Jin Guangyao asks and Nie Mingjue makes it a whole thing to look surprised and turn big eyes on Mo Xuanyu.

“Him? Should I?” he innocently asks and Mo Xuanyu has to press his lips together to hide his smile.

Nie Mingjue can be such a troll sometimes.

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao chides him and Mo Xuanyu shivers with the condescending tone.

Old habits die hard indeed.

“He’s Mo Xuanyu. You should have heard what he did. I have personal grievances with him and yet you make him stand there. I shouldn’t have to endure that, not after what he did.”

Mo Xuanyu is in the process of shrinking in on himself, when Nie Mingjue picks up his cup and toasts Jin Guangyao.

“I have personal grievances with you, too, and yet I am serving you tea. We all have to deal with things we don’t want to. Things change, and you should make sure to adapt to them,” Nie Mingjue pleasantly says, and now Mo Xuanyu is trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

“Da-ge,” Lan Xichen chides Nie Mingjue, who doesn’t even try to look apologetic.

“What? It’s true,” Nie Mingjue says to Lan Xichen and then expertly changes the topic.

Mo Xuanyu isn’t mentioned again, and for that, he’s thankful.

~*~*~

Lan Xichen had to leave rather abruptly shortly before dinner, and he seems as worried about leaving Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue alone as Mo Xuanyu feels.

It’s not a good combination, especially not after what happened over tea.

“Come, let me play for you, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao says after a beat of awkward silence and Nie Mingjue glares at him as if he wants to say no. “Er-ge instructed me to play well for you today,” Jin Guangyao tacks on and just like Jin Guangyao clearly expected, Nie Mingjue sinks down on his seat.

“Fine,” he bites out and Jin Guangyao smiles his most smarmy smile at him.

Mo Xuanyu wants to punch it off his face.

“We should be alone for it,” Jin Guangyao says, his eyes finding Mo Xuanyu. “We can’t be disturbed.”

Mo Xuanyu is not going to leave Nie Mingjue alone with Jin Guangyao, but after a heavy sigh, Nie Mingjue nods.

“Xuanyu, go find Nie Huaisang,” he instructs him, and Mo Xuanyu wants to argue, wants to tell him that there is no way in hell that he’s going to leave him alone with this snake, but Nie Mingjue seems tired all of a sudden and Mo Xuanyu knows that his qi deviations have gotten worse over the last months.

“Fine,” he says and bows, before he takes his leave.

Except, he doesn’t leave.

He waits until he’s out of sight and then he turns back, lingering just behind a door, so he can hear everything without being seen.

He does not trust Jin Guangyao.

And rightfully so, it seems, when the song Jin Guangyao plays Nie Mingjue turns into something more sinister; turns into something that Lan Xichen most definitely never played for Nie Mingjue.

Mo Xuanyu waits for a few moments, just to make sure that he’s not accusing Jin Guangyao for nothing, but when his headache from the infused spiritual energy gets too much, he knows that he has to do something.

The goal of this music is not to calm Nie Mingjue down.

Mo Xuanyu gets up from where he was hiding and marches into the hall, almost running, trying for an urgent look on his face.

“Nie Mingjue!” he calls out and Jin Guangyao’s playing ends with a discordant note.

“What?” Nie Mingjue bellows and between one blink and the next Baxia is in his hands and pointing at Mo Xuanyu, while a satisfied smirk crosses Jin Guangyao’s face.

Well, Mo Xuanyu is not going to give him the satisfaction of dying here.

“Nie Zonghui ran into a problem at the training grounds,” Mo Xuanyu lies straight through his teeth, because this is one of the few things that will get Nie Mingjue’s attention.

Nie Zonghui is the most capable person Mo Xuanyu has ever seen; if he ran into a problem, Nie Mingjue will want to go investigating immediately.

“He asks for your presence.”

“How dare you,” Nie Mingjue presses out through clenched teeth and Mo Xuanyu can see the first signs of an impending qi deviation.

He has to react quickly now.

“Mingjue, it’s just me,” Mo Xuanyu says and forces himself to be smaller than he actually is. “You said I’m with you now. You said I’d be safe with you,” he whispers and Nie Mingjue blinks two, three times, but in the end he lowers Baxia.

“Xuanyu,” he mutters and he shakes his head as if to clear it. “What problem?”

“At the training grounds,” Mo Xuanyu says with a nod, noting the slight tension of Jin Guangyao’s jaw, how he narrows his eyes at him. “Come with me.”

“Lead the way,” Nie Mingjue says, but he sounds unsteady, and Mo Xuanyu wishes he could simply strangle Jin Guangyao.

How dare he try to take the one good thing in Mo Xuanyu’s life away from him.

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t actually allow both of their backs to be turned towards Jin Guangyao, so he let’s Nie Mingjue wander off by himself as he forces himself to bow to Jin Guangyao.

“If you would excuse us, I think it’s best to return to your Sect,” he politely forces out and is met with one of the falsest smiles he has ever seen on Jin Guangyao’s face.

“Sure,” he says and his tone makes a shiver run down Mo Xuanyu’s back. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to Nie Zonghui. Or Nie Mingjue for that matter.”

Mo Xuanyu has half a mind to kill him on the spot but then Jin Guangyao turns around and leaves.

He doesn’t even take his offensive guqin with him.

Mo Xuanyu glares after him for a long moment, before Nie Mingjue calls for him from the hallway.

“Mo Xuanyu, where are you? Let’s go!”

Mo Xuanyu hurries out to him and then pushes him into the next unoccupied room instead of leading him out to the training grounds.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue asks, and some of the anger from before must still be left, because he’s glaring hard at Mo Xuanyu.

“Saving your life,” Mo Xuanyu hisses and then, after he made sure that no one is lingering in the hallway, he whirls around to Nie Mingjue.

“What about Zonghui? He needs help.”

“He doesn’t,” Mo Xuanyu gives back. “I have only been here for a few months but I doubt the guy has ever needed help with anything.”

“What is going on here?” Nie Mingjue asks and Mo Xuanyu forces him to sit down.

“How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache,” Nie Mingjue admits and then looks at his hands. “I was close to a qi deviation, wasn’t I?” he then quietly asks and Mo Xuanyu takes a deep breath.

“Yes. And I am guessing it’s because of the music Jin Guangyao plays you,” he admits and Nie Mingjue looks questioningly at him.

“But Xichen plays me the same music,” he argues but Mo Xuanyu shakes his head.

“He doesn’t. There’s a part in the middle, a part he heavily infuses with spiritual energy, that is different from what Lan Xichen plays you.”

“Are you sure?” Nie Mingjue asks and Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes.

“Not all of us are as tone deaf as you are,” Mo Xuanyu tells him and Nie Mingjue sighs like only an older brother can.

“You sound exactly like Huaisang,” he complains and Mo Xuanyu shrugs.

“Maybe you’ll listen to me then,” he mutters and then takes a deep breath. “Your temper has gotten worse since he plays for you, right?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue admits. “I—did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t,” Mo Xuanyu rushes to reassure him. “You stopped before anything could happen.”

“Xichen will have to drop by more often, if Jin Guangyao can’t play for me anymore,” Nie Mingjue whispers, and Mo Xuanyu knows how much it irks Nie Mingjue to take up so much of his friend’s time.

“I’m not too bad with an instrument,” Mo Xuanyu says and looks down at his hands. “And thanks to Nie Zonghui’s training I’m not as weak as before. I could—learn, if you’d be okay with that?”

Nie Mingjue stares at him in surprise, and Mo Xuanyu is about to take it back, just to make Nie Mingjue stop looking at him like that, but then he smiles at him.

“You, Xuanyu,” Nie Mingjue says and puts his hand on Mo Xuanyu’s neck to rest their foreheads together, “are a saint sent from the gods.”

The sentiment is so ridiculous it startles a laugh from Mo Xuanyu, but Nie Mingjue only continues to steadily look at him, and soon enough the laugh fades from Mo Xuanyu’s lips.

“If anyone should be saying that, it should be me,” he protests, because there is no doubt in Mo Xuanyu’s mind that without Nie Mingjue, he’d long be dead by now.

“I’m only repaying a debt,” Mo Xuanyu mutters and has to fight back some tears when Nie Mingjue lightly squeezes his neck in warning.

“You’re not,” Nie Mingjue says, “because there is nothing you owe. You’re a valued member of my Sect and there is nothing you have to repay.“

“You’re too good to me,” Mo Xuanyu whispers and if he leans a little bit heavier against Nie Mingjue, then there’s no one around to judge him for it.

“I am just as good as you deserve,” Nie Mingjue replies and tilts his head to brush his lips over Mo Xuanyu’s cheek.

Mo Xuanyu blushes furiously, he can feel it, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything to his more than obviously red cheeks.

“Now let’s see if we can convince Lan Xichen to teach you the song,” Nie Mingjue then decidedly says and gets up.

Mo Xuanyu knows that the incident with Jin Guangyao is not forgotten, but that Nie Mingjue needs a few days to come to terms with it, to fully accept it.

And until that happens—and until they decide on a course of action—Mo Xuanyu will stay right by Nie Mingjue’s side.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #beetober 2020 #untamed fall fest #mo xuanyu #nie mingjue #the untamed #mdzs #pre-slash #hurt/comfort #jgy's scheming #song of clarity/turmoil #fluff #a new home

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - The Alchemist Returns

Strap in folks, cause this is going to be a long one. In truth, there are very few flaws in this episode, but in order to explain them I have to really get into some character analysis first.

Summary: Varian comes to Rapunzel for help in finding the remnants of the mystical golden flower, which may hold the key to stopping the Black Rocks. Working together, they venture through the old tunnels beneath Corona. Meanwhile Cass and Eugene work together to figure out who drugged the castle’s populace with a truth serum.

Behold! The One and Only Time Frederic is Called Out on His BS; and Nothing Comes of It.

Rapunzel finally, finally stands up to her dad and points out both his abusiveness and his poor leadership. It doesn’t affect the narrative in anyway. Neither character learns anything from this nor changes their points of view. This conversation might as well not have happened given how the characters behave in later episodes/seasons.

The only reason this scene exists is to give Rapunzel motivation for stealing the flower within the episode. A goal that she changes her mind about towards the end. Thereby walking back on such motivation and putting us back at square one with her development.

Rapunzel Isn’t Being Truthful With Herself Nor the Audience

So people aren't always one hundred percent truthful about what they want and their goals. Especially if it involves admitting something about yourself or a loved one that you don’t want to acknowledge. Fictional characters are meant to give the illusion of being real so they can sometimes mimic this behavior.

Throughout the episode Rapunzel keeps on assisting that she’s doing this ‘for Corona’, but we’re given context clues along side that to tell us that her real reasons are about her relationship with her father.

Unfortunately, the show has a bad habit of not communicating information clearly and also has a history of expecting the audience to take what the characters say at face value. Ergo, it’s easy to miss Rapunzel’s true motivations and thereby fail to fully understand her actions and decisions throughout.

Once Again, These Prophetic Dreams Go Nowhere

Dream Varian mentions Rapunzel has a ‘destiny’ but the show never spells out what that destiny actually is nor why she needs to fulfill it. Sure there’s a big quest for the moonstone in season two, but the rocks stop being a threat by then so really, she doesn’t actually need to go on that quest. In fact, she would save a lot of people at lot of trouble if she did nothing at all. That’s poor storytelling. You need something driving the action; a reason to motivate the hero.

Secondly, we never get an explanation for why she randomly has these dreams in the first season but for none of the others. Nor why Varian is at the center of the them when it’s other villains she needs to actually be warned about, like say Zhan Tiri.

No, the real reason why this dream sequence exists is just to reiterate Rapunzel’s internal conflict. She wants a relationship with her Dad, but he’s a male Gothel, and she’s now caught in the middle of his and Varian’s conflict because she failed to take responsibility when she needed to. And is still failing because she doesn’t want to shatter her illusions about Frederic.

Shoving the main protagonist’s driving conflit into a subtextual dream sequence is lazy. Especially since we get no official resolution to said conflict. Rapunzel never acknowledges the problem here, never follows up on any type of action, and she never faces any true consequences for ignoring the issue.

She carries on believing in her fantasy version of Frederic, even as he continues to do harmful things, and the narrative just rewards both her and him for it.

There Should Have Been an Episode Showing the Audience Varian’s Side of the Story

What happened to Varian in between Queen for a Day and this episode is told only through context clues. Nothing is stated outright, meaning the audience has to rely too heavily on inference and are left to piece together what happened on their own like a puzzle. That’s poor writing.

Even something as simple as ‘how much time has past’ (its three months btw, S1 is six months long and QfaD is the meant to be the midpoint) is left up to the viewer to keep up with rather then being clearly stated. This is made even harder to do by the marketing team showing most of the episodes out of order.

You need to clearly relay information to your audience. That means repeating said information in a variety of ways over the course of the story. Have those context clues, but also have more overt hints, and direct reveals interspersed along with that. Especially when dealing with the motivations and goals of the character driving the main plot.

Even if you attribute the lack of a Varain episode to the ‘twist’ in this one, (a twist that was revealed in QfaD anyways) there’s still no excuse for why we didn’t get a flashback episode afterwards to fill this hole in narrative out.

Don’t Pretend Ignorance Rapunzel

Nigel literally repeated the rumor to her face last episode. She knows her father is lying about the rocks and attacked her for the scroll. She knows from the letter that those same guards were chasing down Varian for said scroll. She knows about Corona’s laws and what would happen to Varian if the guards caught him.

There is zero reason for her to be acting like this is new information. Let alone have any right to feign concern after three months of ignoring his plea for help.

That’s what I mean about the series not communicating clearly and wanting the audience to take things at face value. The show deliberately has the characters say things that contradict established events to try and get the audience on their side.

The episode is trying to telling us, ‘See! Rapunzel is innocent in all this cause she didn’t know, but she’s trying to make up for it now’. Yet, if you’ve been watching and paying attention to the details, you know that’s not the truth here.

Good writing is about communicating ideas to your audience. But this show can’t decide on which idea to communicate. Is Rapunzel at fault or no? You can’t have it both ways. Either she screwed up and thereby caused the conflict in question now or she didn’t. If she didn’t, then events shouldn’t progress like they do. If she did, then it needs to be acknowledged and she needs to held accountable by the narrative.

More Hints into Rapunzel's True Motivation

I can’t stress this enough. Rapunzel’s reasons for stealing the flower has nothing to do with Corona. That is an excuse. It’s about trying to find out what her Dad is hiding from her and why he’s lying to her. This comment right here is what compels Raps to go along with his plan.

Also...

Varian Isn’t Lying Here

I also want to make it perfectly clear that Varian is being upfront with Raps. He tells her his plan is to steal the flower and why. She’s the one that makes the assumption that this entails them only taking one petal and the assumption that ‘all our problems’ only means saving Corona. Even though saving Corona and saving Quirin are the same problem. (more on this later)

It’s important to understand Rapunzel’s thought process and her true motivations in order to make sense of her actions later in the story.

Rapunzel’s internal conflict is her need for autonomy versus her fear of rejection. The ‘for Corona’ and ‘one petal’ excuses are used because she thinks they’ll play well with her Dad. In order words, they’re reassurances to her that should she get caught and have to face her father’s disapproval then she could counteract his arguments with his own belief system about ‘putting the kingdom’s needs first’ and ‘following your own inner voice.’

And yes, both Rapunzel and Frederic are big fat hypocrites for this, but Rapunzel hasn’t acknowledged that fact to herself and is trying to convince herself throughout the episode to believe in her own excuses.

Why Do You Care About Treason Rapunzel?

For context, treason is the highest crime in any country. It’s punishable by death, even in the real world. Now each country has its own legal definition of what constitutes as treason. Here in a America, in Article III, Section 3 of the United States Constitution, treason is specifically limited to levying war against the US, or adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort. And only during a time of war. Legally, a time of war has to be approved by the US congress. Technically, congress hasn’t declared war since World War II. This is why certain people haven’t been convicted of treason like acts both in, and out of, later US conflicts because the definition is arguably too narrow and specific. But it’s intentionally that way to help prevent false accusations and to keep people in power from murdering their political opposition.

Before the US, treason just meant opposing the ruler of the land in any way. The founding fathers committed treason just by signing the Declaration of Independence. They all would have been executed had the US lost the revolution. Here in Corona, that old definition still stands. Simple theft of royal property, a non violent act, is considered treason and we already know it’s punishment. Eugene stole royal property and was almost hanged for it in the movie.

Now Rapunzel though, she is royalty. This stuff she’s stealing is technically her own property. She’ll inherit all of these things once Queen. Moreover, we all know that Frederic wouldn’t harm Rapunzel let alone kill her. She’s not in any real danger here. So why does she care?

Remember that Rapunzel’s internal conflict is personal autonomy versus her fear of rejection. She only hesitates in her pursuit of answers when reminded of Frederic’s possible disapproval. That’s why she stops under his frowning picture to say this. “Treason” only means possible rejection or disapproval from her father. The worst thing she faces is another argument with him.

Meanwhile, Varian’s life is very much at stake here. He is risking everything, quite literally, to save his father. But his life was arguably forfeit as soon as Frederic decided he wanted the scroll. What’s to prevent the king from claiming that as his own property even when it’s really not? If he’s already sent guards after Varian and the scroll then that’s precisely what he’s already done.

The series is acting like Rapunzel is the reasonable one here because she questions stealing, but the reality is she’s being selfish and willfully obtuse. Multiple lives are at stake here, including the one of the person she is talking to right now. Breaking the law, defying her father, in order to save those lives shouldn’t even be in question at all.

Corona and Quirin Aren’t Conflicting Interests.

Quirin and Corona are both facing the same problem. Solving one will inevitably mean solving the other. Any distinction between the two is solely created within Rapunzel’s own mind.

She does this to to hide her true motivations and conflict from herself. The show does this to try and villainize Varian over Frederic.

There’s a clear bias in who the series wants you to root for and so it skews the perception of what’s actually at stake by creating a non-existent competition between Quirin’s life and the country’s safety. Even though Quirin, Varian, and Old Corona are all apart of the kingdom. They’re all Rapunzel’s and Federic’s responsibly too. Saving Quirin’s life should be more than reason enough to steal the flower on it’s own.

But this is ‘Rapunzel’s show’ and according to the creators, that means that her personal feelings are more important than actual human lives. Not really, but that’s their mindset and approach to conflicts in the show.

Rapunzel’s True Motivation is Revealed

So we’ve followed the hints, but here it is stated outright. This was never about Corona, the rocks,Varian’s safety, nor Quirin’s life. This is about her need for autonomy. Her own personal quest for assertiveness. She’s been bullied and abused by two steprate parental figures now and she’s growing tired of it. Which is understandable and valid, but it shouldn’t be made more important than everyone else’s problems. Everytime Rapunzel says ‘for Corona’, she really means ‘for herself.’

Rapunzel Shouldn’t be the Only Person Solving the Obstacles Here

Varian is just as smart as Rapunzel, if not smarter. This has been established throughout the show both before and after this episode. Meanwhile, Rapunzel is more physically adept than Varian. This whole sequence in the tunnels should have been both Rapunzel and Varian teaming up and complementing the other’s skill sets. They need to be on equal footing in order to sell their conflict later on. But the show deliberately down plays Varian’s competence in this episode in an effort to make Rapunzel look good.

‘Girl power’ shouldn’t mean making the character perfect. It especially shouldn’t mean making other characters weaker in comparison. Women want equality. That means we want to see female characters treated as people. That means we want female characters to be flawed while still contributing to the plot same as the male characters. That doesn’t mean we want to be paraded around as the only competent person in the room. We want to be on the same level as the boys not above them.

Over idealization and glorification of ‘strong’ female characters is just as problematic as damsels in distresses.

Writers like Chris Sonnenburg grew up during the heyday of Third-wave Feminism. Right on the cusp between second-wave and third-wave points of view as women really started to challenge Hollywood’s portrayal of themselves as homemakers and love interests. They wanted to be the heroes for once. Starting in the 60s and reaching pick popularity in the 70s and early 80s, film makers responded by making female characters who could physically fight but either failed to give them any sort of depth and/or made them the only archetype available.

Chris, and several other male writers who lived during this era, have internalized this approach by default without actually examining how it came into existence nor why women would no longer be satisfied by this portrayal of them, if they ever were. All we’ve done is trade one stereotype for another, as male creators fetishize what was once meant to be an attempt to empower ourselves.

Had Chis actually brought more female writers onto the show and listened to the criticisms from his female crew, he could have better avoided problems like the one above. But instead he dug in his heels and insisted that he already knew what we wanted. He doesn’t.

Why Would You Assume This Eugene?

Varian hasn’t actually done anything wrong yet. His worst crimes are drugging people with a magic potion, which is what Xavier did without consequence only two episodes ago, and attempting to steal a magical healing flower that the king has been hoarding from his subjects anyways. A king who has been persecuting Varian unfairly and they know this because of Quest for Varian.

Eugene of all people should be sympathetic towards Varian’s plight. He’s been there himself. He should also know that the rumors about Varian attacking Rapunzel are untrue because Raps told him about the events of Queen for a Day herself.

Meanwhile Cassandra was actually there. She knows Varian’s problems and is supposedly his ‘friend.’ She has even less reason to be hostile towards him.

But once again, the series has the characters respond to things that contradict established events in order to create a bias in the audience. “See, Eugene and Cass doesn’t trust Varian and neither should Rapunzel. See, how evil he really is?” It tries to tell us. In order to convince us to excuse Frederic’s behavior so that when the series does just that through Rapunzel choosing his side we’ll be on board with it. You know, unless you have been paying attention, already have a developed moral code, and the reasoning facilities of an adult.

Rapunzel Lacks Empathy

Keep in mind, ‘for Corona’ really means ‘for herself’. The only competition between Quirin and the kingdom is one that she’s fabricated in her own mind. Varian not caring about the island punctures holes into her excuses. Even though Varian is a fourteen/fifteen year old who holds no responsibility for the safety of a whole country. Especially one that’s mistreated him. Of course his father’s life is going to be more important to him.

What Rapunzel is really asking here is, “Why don't you care about what I care about?” “Why aren’t you concerned about my feelings over your own?”

Which makes sense for her character. She’s a woman who has been trapped in a tower her whole life. She lacks the experience needed to be an empathetic person. She’s never had to grieve before. The only permanent death she’s known is that of her abuser. Her trauma over nearly losing Eugene and Pascal was the fear of loss, not the actual process of living without someone. Rapunzel has no framework of reference in order to truly understand what Varian is going through.

Sympathy is feeling sorry for someone. Empathy is understanding how a person feels. Rapunzel may be a sympathetic person but she’s not an empathetic one and there’s a difference between being ‘nice’ and being kind. The show presents to us a woman who needs to learn that difference. The problem is that she never does.

This is actually a brilliant conflict and point of characterization. It’s taking what we already know about a character and expanding upon it to give us believable flaws that impact the story. I actually like this conflict. I like this portrayal. I initially preferred the series over the movie because of this.

I want Rapunzel to be flawed. I want her flaws to to inform the plot. I want to like her as a character. But I can’t. Because the show never acknowledges these flaws, never has her grow as a person. She remains unempathetic and selfish till the end even as she gains more experience, and the show acts like she is justified in hurting others.

This exchange is the quillivant of a rich person who donates money to environmentalist causes trying to shame a poor child for daring to ‘waste water’ in order to take a bath, even while ignoring their own factories spewing pollutants into the local river. The show tries to claim that classism is okay so long as it’s perpetuated by the creator’s favs.

Varian is in the Right

First off he never claimed that he was only going to take one petal. Rapunzel just assumed that. Also, he’s right there is no difference. Once again Rapunzel has fabricated a distinction in her mind in order to have an excuse to sell her dad. She only hesitates now because taking the whole thing means there’s more risk of getting caught and less possibility of weaseling out of punishment through deniability.

Never mind that Frederic doesn’t own the flower anyways. He stole it from Gothel first, outside of his land’s borders. Never mind that him taking the flower actually causes harm to others while stealing it back does not. Never mind that breaking a law to save a human life is not only justifiable but preferable. Never mind that the king is essentially hoarding medicine from the populace, thereby breaking the social contract of a leader towards his people and becoming a despot instead.

No, Varian hurt Rapunzel’s feelings so he’s evil don’t you see? He placed his needs above the main character’s wants and desires, ergo the series treats him as a villain.

Look, I’m not saying that Varian is without fault nor that everything he does is justifiable. But the show (and certain fans) goes out of its way to demonize the character even when he’s doing what’s actually morally right. This isn’t the point when Varian falls to the darkside, that’s yet to come, but it is the point where the series starts to play favorites with its characters at the expense of teaching coherent lessons.

Inconsistent Messages

Yes, how dare he do the exact same thing as Pascal and Max did two episodes later. Don’t you know, he’s the villain; even though he actually has more reason to use the truth serum than they did the mood potion.

The problem of centering so much of the conflict on Rapunzel’s personal feelings means that Rapunzel and the show has double standards for how characters are treated. Friends of Rapunzel gets free passes. Lack of friendship means you’re now the enemy and can’t be excused. Even though in real life that is what we call nepotism and an abuse of power.

Authoritarianism Vs Consequentialism

When you mention the word authoritarianism to someone they automatically picture in their head armed men in uniforms marching in the streets attacking innocent people on behalf of a dictator’s orders. Yet, that’s not what authoritarianism is. That’s fascism, which can spring forth from authoritarians gaining political power but it’s not the only manifestation of this philosophy.

Authoritarianism is the belief system that the ‘authority’ is always right, even when wrong. An authoritarian will find any excuse to follow and believe in their chosen authority even when that authority has failed them or others.

The opposing philosophy here is consequentialism. That’s the belief that right and wrong are directly linked to consequence. To their minds something is morally wrong if the action has a bad outcome for others.

To illustrate the difference let's look at a near universal rule.

“Murder is wrong.”

Now both the authoritarian and the consequentialist will normally agree with this. But the ‘why’ to them couldn’t be any more different.

To an authoritarian ‘murder is wrong’ because the authority has deemed it so. That authority can be anything that the anthoritian has personally chosen; God, the government, their parents ect. It’s completely arbitrary and subject to change on a whim. The authoritarian lacks consistency and conviction and will often have multiple chosen authorities that will contradict one another. If one of those authorities came out in favor of murder then there’s a strong chance that the authoritarian will change their position or belief as oppose to denouncing their chosen leader.

Meanwhile, ‘murder is wrong’ to the consequentialist because there are clear irreversibly bad consequences for doing it. It removes a life from the world. All possibilities for that person are now forever snuffed out. It hurts those left behind. ect. The consequentialist is consistent in their beliefs so long as the consequence remains the same. They can’t be swayed by mere orders. That’s not to say that consequentialism is incorruptible. A consequentialist can easily become a knight templar if they are forced to weigh consequences against each other. Then it becomes ‘murder is still wrong unless it achieves this arbitrary goal’.

In truth, morality is a sliding scale for most people and you normally hold more than one ethical belief system. However history has proven that authoritarianism is the more often dangerous and corruptible philosophy as it relies heavily on peer pressure, groupthink, and yes, abuse. Most authortians don't come from healthy loving homes. Either they were abused or are abusers themselves. When conducting studies on authoritarianism psychologists and sociologists use questions about parenting in order to pinpoint who is and isn’t an authoritarian as most people aren’t going to just come right out and claim we should go back to feudalism and the divine right of kings.

An out of control authoritarian is a bully with power. An out of control consequentialist is just a vigilante.

Frederic and Varian are the representatives of the two sides of these opposing belief systems and the representatives of what happens when people with those belief systems become corrupt. By having the main character choose between the two of them and siding with the her father, the authoritarian, the show is now validating this philosophy.

Breaking an unjust law shouldn’t be presented as a bad thing here. Blindly accepting Frederic’s rule shouldn��t be the end result of all this. Excusing his abusive behavior shouldn’t be the finale outcome of the story. There’s not a single thing that Frederic, and by extension Rapunzel, does that hasn’t been done by corrupt governments in the real world. Their reasons for doing so be damned.

Given the current political landscape and the increasing push to give real life anthortirans more power, this was absolutely the wrong message to put into a children’s show. It’s not that children will grow up to become authoritarians themselves by just watching the show, but it can condition them to go along with authoritarian abuse if they are now familiar the excuses abusers use to validate their actions. Especially, if they are already trapped in an abusive environment and are being fed these excuses by their current abusers.

I've already seen this toxic thought process played out by younger members of the fandom who are only just now forming their moral codes. “Accept what’ve you’ve been given.” “It’s okay, your parent (the authority) loves you and knows what’s best” “Hurting people is alright because they’ve been hurt you need to ofter up understanding”

NO!

Theses aren’t good lessons. These are the lies fed to you by abusive people. And the show repeatedly validates, justifies, and excuses both abuse and political corruption. Whether the creators believe this philosophy or not, they just approved of it anyways through their own incompetence.

Varian has Every Reason to Not Trust Rapunzel

This the third time in three months that Rapunzel has backed out of helping him. All for increasingly flimsy reasons. She’s making a lot of promises here but not offering up any concrete solutions. Remember she’s not ready to confront her father yet, and neither of them know that she’s the sundrop herself. So what is her plan here? How is she suppose to recuse Quirin and prevent Varian from being unjustly punished if she can’t stand up to the one person who is responsible for causing these problems in the first place.

Can you really blame Varian for going through with what he does here given how she has treated him thus far and would most likely continue to treat him? Yet that’s precisely what the show wants you to do because ‘stealing is wrong’ even though in this case it actually isn’t.

This is Out of Character

Once again, both Cass and Eugene have no reason within the current narrative to be so hostile towards Varian, yet. They’re only doing so now to create bias in the viewer. For Eugene this is especially out of character. I mean we’ve already seen Cass place her ambitions of above others people’s needs both before and after this, but Eugene is constantly written as the heart of the show. He’s suppose to be the most empathetic and caring person in the group, and yet here he is trying to arrest an orphan who’s only stealing to survive. Sound familiar? He of all people should be the first to defend Varian not attack him.

Excuse You, Raps!

You know very well what he is. He’s a child. A lost, lonely, grieving, and desperate child who’s been let down by everyone who is responsible for him including yourself. But far be it for the show to actually point this out by stating it plainly and show you for the self centered ass you really are.

Scenes Like This are Why Varian Should Have Been the Deuteragonist

His story maybe connected to Rapunzel’s but it doesn’t revolve around her. He has his own stakes and conflicts that happen to intersect or oppose with Raps given whatever point in the narrative we’re at. As such we gets scenes like this one in his lab where he is the sole focus and is pushing the story forward. No other character actually gets this.

Eugene’s arc has little to no bearing on the overall plot and Cassandra’s solo scenes in season three do nothing to further push the story nor give new insights into her character, as her given goal and motivation is too dependent upon Rapunzel herself to be shown separately.

Out of all the main characters, Varian’s conflict is the only one that holds enough tension to maintain a separate story line. He needs this focus in order to make sense of what's going on with the larger picture and to resolve his conflict in a satisfying manner. Had the the creators been smart enough to follow through with Varian’s story till the end instead of dumping it at the last minute in season two and hastily rewriting a half-arsed resolution it in season three, then we’ve could have gotten the Disney equivalent of a Zuko vs. Aang, Loki vs Thor, or even Duck vs Rue/Fakir arc. As is, we’re only left with the table scraps of several loosely connected stories none of which are very satisfying to watch.

Conclusion

I still like this episode and Varian’s arc overall but I can't in good conscience call it well written knowing now where it all leads to. Nor can I in could good conscience recommend the show knowing the awful morals it touts. And that makes me angry. Angry that I was fooled into thinking that this show had depth and maturity. Angry that I ever once held this show up as being good. Angry that I invested myself into believing that this show would finally give me a decent Disney anti-villain that I could like. Angry that trusted the creators not to be raging arseholes who made poor creative decisions based off of ego and questionable ethics...

I started this marathon so that I could vent my feelings and gain some closure, while also opening up a frank discussion about how bad creative decisions can lead to bad lessons in children's media. This show has many of the same problems as a lot of current tv series do but all condensed down into one place and there are things to be learn from that.However after this series of reviews are over I doubt I’ll ever watch the show again. It’s honestly not worth the time.

#varian #rapunzel #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #review #character analysis

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it-sy-bit-sy · 3 years

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The ending of Attack on Titan: a shallow analysis

(I don't think I should have to put a spoilers alert on a blog about the ENDING OF AOT, but in general if you mind being spoiled on a series, I advise you to refrain from attending discussions about the body of work until you've finished it in its entirety/come up to speed on the current chapter/episode. Screw hype dude, do you like being hurt? Also for the TLDR, it’s that Attack on Titan explores the cycle of hatred (Eren’s journey) AND love which is why Mikasa and Ymir become relevant at the end of the story.)

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PREFACE

Since the newly added panels of AOT’s ending have been likened by some to the ending of Naruto, I'd like to say that Naruto's end truly hurt me; the way it flows into Boruto is so contrived it burns. A story that's always centered around powerful ninja bloodlines fighting political wars suddenly introduced aliens that harvest planets for energy as the super antagonist, and additionally they're the source of all our characters' powers as well as the jinchuriki and tailed beasts themselves. Then when you look at the plot of Boruto which heavily relies on the Otsutsuki clan as an antagonistic force, their whole existence feels like the transition from Dragon Ball straight into the first DBZ arc with Goku learning he’s really part of an alien race that was meant to destroy Earth.

I didn't detect so forced a role in the ending of AOT, but it's absolutely plausible to speculate that the alternate ending was influenced for this reason, as we know Attack on Titan wasn't produced through Isayama's involvement alone. Certain compromises are made when operating as a team, though it would be wonderful if the original intent of authors were more absolute in the world of production than they are known to be.

And as much as I don't enjoy half-hearted continuations of series for a royalty check, I ALMOST can't blame them for doing it...it creates (many) happy fans, more jobs, and Isayama gets his royalty check. The rest of us suffer but hey, artists need money I guess... 🥀 Moving on. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#1. Eren's development as a character

I never saw Eren's goal steered in the direction of breaking the cycle of revenge or hatred. He was acting wholly in his own interests. He's intensely selfish, doesn't want to change his views, and exists in the story to further the cycle itself. According to me, Chapters 129 and 131 perfectly explain his motivations for the rumbling.

Now before I go on, I'd like to bring a particular scene to mind. I do remember him saying this once (to Historia who had just told him killing the rest of the world is unjustifiable and wrong):

Yes, he said that, but I don't think that is what he ever intended the rumbling to be used for.

After he stated that 80% of humanity was wiped out so Paradis will be safe for the time being, he neglected to answer Armin's questions in 139: "Did you really need to go that far? Are you sure you did all of this for our sakes?" We may also consider the thoughts he chose NOT to share in chapter 131:

That combined with this excerpt from 129 is pretty much all there is to Eren's convictions.

Those are the same words he said in Chapter 2 after his mother died.

So despite his brief period of self-loathing when considering 1) the countless lives in survey corps sacrificed for his sake, 2) being confronted with his and his father's involvement in the Reiss family, 3) everything he learned about his enemy--that all titans are formerly human, that the titan shifters were just children deceived by their world--he even admits to Reiner during Tyburn's speech (Chapter 100) that they are indeed in the same boat--and on top of that, admitting that the rumbling will do nothing to fix the course of history, he settled with the same conviction he held the moment he decided to do something to change the world.

Again, here's his words from 139 showing us just how angry a boi Eren was.

This was Eren Jaeger...he didn't even really know what he was doing.

As a human being, Eren was very much in the cycle of revenge as much as everyone else was. His course of action never deviated too far from that path. He knew better, but he lashed out at the world to protect the few people he cared about anyway. He took freedom away from the ones who threatened him. He was a mass murderer, and so were the other soldiers in this series fighting for their own reasons, since titans were people. Survey corps were always slaughtering these people whom they saw as monsters. Marley viewed Eldians as monstrously and with as much hatred as Eldians viewed the titans. Eren did not try to justify his actions to everyone. He simply stopped seeing the value of life in others not important to him, as humans often do.

So what did he sacrifice 80% of humanity for? From 129 again:

Them meaning his immediate friends.

No, he didn't care about their children's children and beyond because there's no way to control what happens when you're gone from this world. It wasn't his problem. Eren had 4 years at most left to live, and he wanted to do what he could to ensure his friends were happy before he left.

And as jarring as it was to see Eren become undone in the last chapter, I didn't find it completely out of character, because for one he was talking to his closest friend moments before his own death, and secondly, Eren was just a stupid human like the rest of the people in this series. Obviously, most people just want a normal life that they can spend with people whom they love. Eren was the same way, but was denied that future (and happened to be able to do something about it). Very selfish goals, but those chosen few were his world. Along with a general distaste for humanity, that's how I understand his character motivations.

*Which is to say in relation to the extra pages, Ymir's curse returning a generation or two after the events of AOT doesn't entirely void his actions. I’m assuming the power of Ymir apparently exists as a force of nature on this version of Earth period, so I suppose this points us to an endless cycle of humans eventually finding the power and using it as they see fit *

#2 Why is Romance Relevant to Attack on Titan?

I wasn't expecting a romance factor to be relevant at the end of the story, however considering that Mikasa's affection for Eren WAS her most prominent personality trait as a character, then the events that followed, I was forced to look back to a few moments in the series that could lend light to why, in the end, a romantic subplot ended the curse of Ymir. My conclusions are as follows:

1. Quite literally, the cycle of hatred never ends. Humans will always have a reason to be unkind to one another. We are animals after all; this trait cannot be reasoned through with logic, bred out, or defeated. We are a self-aware species (Eren's even aware of his own hypocrisy in Chapter 131). There will always arise those who take what they want for themselves because they decide in the end they don't care about others as much as they care about their own interests.

2. To make this second point, I'm stealing these words out of a certain machine lifeform's mouth, but bear with me here:

"But the humans...? Now THEY are interesting. Because they are an enigma! They killed uncountable numbers of their own kind, yet loved in equal measure! It's fascinating, don't you think? What could possibly drive such behavior? We have dedicated ourselves to unraveling this riddle of humanity..."

--Adam from NieR:Automata

AOT uses Eren and Mikasa as a case study of humanity. Humans hate and love in equal measure.

In Ch. 129, Zeke's piece here foreshadows the significance of those two for the story, I guess?

Now everyone reading this series as well as the characters in it had noticed how much fondness Mikasa always had for Eren, and how aloof he always was towards her in return...that's something for them to work out.

Despite never really reciprocating Mikasa's feelings, Eren told Armin at the end of the series that yes, he enjoyed receiving her attention; he would have liked to live a happy life with her. So, Mikasa just liked Eren, Eren liked her... And similar to Mikasa, Ymir just liked King Fritz. It doesn't matter whether we think these feelings were sound or not; they did what they wanted with themselves. I suppose that explains the reason she was a mega simp for Eren in the whole story. Yes, this turn in the story reads like a different plot now, not one about war and killing monsters, but I'm pleasantly surprised that this trait taken as a flaw of Mikasa’s actually served as a necessary condition to end the conflict of the titans.

Eren wouldn't let go of his hatred of the world for his own satisfaction, Ymir wouldn't let go of her love of King Fritz for her own satisfaction, and Mikasa is the only one who decided to let go of her convictions in the interest of someone other than herself. That's what moved the curse.

I think Isayama used the characters of Ymir and Mikasa to demonstrate that while there is a cycle of hatred and revenge running rampant in humanity, the cycle of love doesn't stop either.

In closing, and I truly apologize for such a lengthy post; I hope I didn’t reiterate my point too often here...I didn't think about any of this until I heard so many readers upset with the way AOT ended. I'm not personally left with any disappointment in where the story went. I didn't know where it was going to go in the first place, and I think it could have been much worse for us in different hands.

*shrugs*

AOT is a story about the nature of humanity.

*And in regards to Jean, if that is supposed to be him with Mikasa in the new panels, all I can say is dude likes his girl. He was a simp for her and she was a simp for Eren, but the fact that they shared their lives together means a lot even if Eren was never completely buried in her heart. He meant a lot to her man, idk...

#aot #attack on titan #eren jaeger #end of aot #boruto #adam nier automata #nier automata #mikasa ackerman #ymir fritz

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zelenacat · 3 years

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When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 23

After a quick comm to Obi-Wan to let him know the girls were on their way. Satine fell into a deep sleep, only to be woken three and a half hours later to prepare for the day.

“Count Dooku’s coming, remember?” Parna whispered gently.

The Duchess groaned.

“We all feel that way,” Khaami sighed, freshly ironed dresses in her arms, “but this is for the good of the system.”

Satine sat up, feeling her bloated stomach, now empty.

“Dear God,” her eyes widened, “the Count!”

“Exactly.”

Satine threw herself out of bed then groaned.

“Go to the fresher,” Khaami advised, “there’s wrappers under the sink.”

After her underwear came a long chemise, today’s corset required a protection layer, and Satine wanted extra covering in case her neckline slipped. She was, afterall, wearing a very heavy dress. Then a girdle, to pull in her stomach extra tight. Only once all these previous layers were tightly secured did Satine see her dress.

“Is it exactly what you were going for?”

“Yes.” tears pricked Satine’s eyes.

The gown was liquid gold, shimmering with citrine stones that caught the light elegantly. It was high-necked and regal, with boning on the bodice. Lilies were embroidered throughout the dress in a honey-toned thread that brought life to the gown. Satine hadn’t realized she’d been running her fingers along it.

“Shall we get you in it?” Parna grinned.

“We can try.”

Khaami snorted, but unzipped the dress all the same.

“Wow,” Satine breathed as Parna buttoned her up, “this is tight.”

The Duchess looked at herself in the mirror and frowned.

“A gold sash,” Khaami smiled, holding the garment in her hands, “to distract from your stomach.”

As one of her ladies fashioned the sash around her, the other held out a box.

“Your jewelry, Madam.”

Satine gasped as she saw her headpiece. It was a gold tiara with a lily emblazoned in the middle made out of diamonds.

“I will sparkle in the sunlight!” the Duchess twittered.

“That is the goal, Satine.”

Khaami pulled her hair back while Parna extracted more jewelry.

“No earrings,” she observed, “as you requested, but a broach instead of a necklace.”

“Does it match with my ensemble?” Satine asked.

“Naturally,” Parna held up the jewel, “more diamonds.”

Once she was ready, Satine helped her ladies dress, they would be wearing white gowns in a similar style, only less ornate. A knock came at the door as Satine was helping with Khaami’s hair.

“Lady Mother,” Tyra poked her head in, “we’ve come to show you our outfits!”

“Very well, then,” Satine smiled, “come in.”

As they were maids-in-waiting, Tyra and Hera, who was looking quite tired, were wearing servants' outfits. Although, to distinguish them from the regular peasantry, both were wearing white with gold sashes.

“You look lovely,” the Duchess commented, “if not a little tired.”

“Speaking of which,” Parna piped up, “my brother commed to inform me that Jynn and Lyra were received in one of the Temple’s lower levels.”

“Good,” Satine nodded, “Ben said the same thing this morning.”

The Duchess beckoned Tyra over and kissed her head.

“You know what to do, darling?”

“Yes, Lady Mother.”

“Stay out of the Count’s way.” Satine reiterated.

“We will.” Tristan agreed, Korkie on his arm, entering the room without a care.

Fortunately, no one was it a state of undress, but Satine chastised her sons nonetheless.

“Really, Lady Mother,” Korkie assured, “neither of us are like that.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “I should hope my sons weren’t.”

The boys looked at each other.

“You’re very frightening when you do that, Lady Mother.”

“I have to agree,” Tyra nodded, “it’s like we didn’t eat our vegetables or something.”

Satine laughed, a pleasant yet hollow reminder of what could’ve been.

Tyra’s comm beeped and she looked up, “The Count sent cronies to investigate the underworld, that means he’s here!”

After a quick kiss to all of her children present, the Duchess began a brisk walk down to the royal throne room and audience chamber. Korkie had just taken her arm when the doors opened.

“Her Grace Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore, Second of Her Name and Lady Krewella, escorted by His Grace Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari, accompanied by the Lady Parna Supreis and Lady Khaami Eldar.”

There were many fawning whispers about the Duchess’ glorious dress and how handsome her nephew was. Satine let a smile play on her lips, he was eighteen now. His and Tyra’s birthday had been secretly celebrated with their siblings at Mara’s favorite place. Satine hadn’t been a part of it, and she wanted things to stay that way, seeing as Mara’s tastes were generally brutish.

Korkie gently helped his mother onto the throne, then stepped to the right. With Khaami and Parna on her left, they must’ve looked quite the bejeweled spectacle.

“His Excellency, Count Dooku, Head of the Seperatist Alliance and Speaker of the Most High Seperatist Senate.”

The Count was dressed in black. Satine was slightly disappointed. Here she was looking like the sun, and he looked like the night sky. Not to say his dress wasn’t stylish though, it was clearly made of the most expensive fabric in the galaxy and embroidered with silver thread.

“Your Serene Highness,” Count Dooku bowed before the dias, “it is my great honor to be invited to Mandalore.”

“I do hope you enjoy your time here, Your Excellency,” Satine said in a critical tone, “Mandalore is eager to make Seperatist friends.”

“Your Grace shall not be disappointed,” Count Dooku grinned, “and in honor of our goodwill, we Separatists wish to give you a gift.”

The crowd mumbled to themselves, Satine raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Count Dooku clapped his hands and two servants stepped forward from the back of the room, each holding a cage. With a flick of his hands, the Count opened the cages and turtle doves swooped through the room. The crowd gasped. The brave Count took a step forward and produced a flower from his sleeve. One of the birds picked it up and flew it to Satine.

“A flower, for Your Grace, one of many presents to come.”

The Duchess was flattered, she may have even let some color onto her cheeks.

“A lily, what a thoughtful gift, Your Excellency,” Satine grinned, “it’s quite beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as the nation you’ve built, Your Grace.”

The crowd collectively held their breath.

“You most certainly have done your research, Your Grace,” Satine nodded, “and it does your talent a great complement.”

Conversations broke out immediately.

“Talent?” the Count’s voice asked in her head.

Satine was shocked.The Count smirked. The Duchess clapped and the chatter settled down.

“Would you do me the pleasure of escorting me to the ballroom,” Satine held out her hand, “Your Excellency?”

“It would be a joy for a star such as yourself.” replied the Count, climbing the steps.

Korkie eyed the Count warily, meanwhile, the Duchess was smiling, and it was slightly reaching her eyes.

“You make for an interesting visitor, Your Excellency.” Satine commented as they made their way.

“As you said, Your Grace,” the Count replied in a smooth voice, “I do my research.”

“Clearly I should’ve been more diligent in mine.”

Count Dooku turned to face her, “Interested were you?”

“As much as necessity demanded.” Satine replied, without missing a beat.

They didn’t speak again until the first dance, which Count Dooku insisted on having.

“I have many questions.” he began.

“And I may not choose to answer them.”

The Count huffed.

“But you may try, of course,” Satine tilted her head, “I would hate to discourage you at such an early stage.”

The next voice she heard belonged to Tyra, “Good. Play him.”

Satine was unaware of this new force ability, but she much preferred speaking to her daughter rather than her dance partner.

“Well if you insist,” Count Dooku smirked, “I do certainly want to know how you captured my spy.”

Satine made sure to guard her mind, “A lady never reveals her secrets.”

The Count twirled her, letting his hand rest on her hip.

“Perhaps a simpler question then,” Dooku decided, “was this courtship planned by Senator Amidala?”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “The Senator was much opposed to this as you must know.”

“Was she?”

“The Senator feels that one must take sides to protect their country,” Satine hesitated, “currently I feel firmness is dangerous.”

“It is,” Count Dooku agreed, “then again, so is dancing with a Sith Lord.”

The song ended, the Duchess curtsied and the Count bowed.

“Your Grace.”

“Your Excellency,” Satine extended her arm, ”do allow me to introduce you to my ladies.”

The Count offered the Duchess his arm and they glided across the floor. Satine signaled to Khaami.

“Your Excellency, this is my Lady Khaami Eldar and her husband, Lord Eldar, Khaami, may I present the Count Dooku.”

After bows and a curtsey were exchanged, the Count went on the hunt, trying to glean information from Khaami.

“Well, Your Excellency, I think that’s up to Her Grace,” Lady Eldar straightened and turned to the Duchess, “Satine, should we discuss our favorite pastime with the Count?”

Satine grinned, “I think we should, Khaami, why don’t you begin?”

Lady Khaami turned to the Count.

“Did you know our Lady’s favorite pastime is ridding Mandalore of her enemies?”

This certainly shocked the Count.

“I mention this because I’ve heard your just as aggressive in your spare time when committing mass murder.”

Khaami said this all with a smile on her face, Satine glowed.

“Mass murder, you say?”

“Mandalore prefers peaceful ends to conflicts,” the Duchess stated, “we happen to hear that the Separatists can be brutal.”

Count Dooku smirked, “Senator Amidala has certainly spoken with you, but I never thought I’d hear anti-bellicose notions from a Mandalorian.”

“You mistake our strategy if you believe ancient prejudices.” Satine commented.

The Count’s Eyes sparkled, “Strategy?”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “Do Sith Lords do everything without a plan?”

“On the contrary, Your Grace,” Dooku smiled, “we always have a plan.”

“How unattractively diabolical.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Satine turned and made her way to Parna.

“How goes the evening, Your Grace?” Parna asked politely.

“Well, thank you,” Satine answered, feeling the Count step out alongside her, “may I present his Excellency Count Dooku.”

Parna curtsied and commented dryly, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The Count tilted his head, “Lady Supreis, is it?”

“If you’re going to ask about my connections, I suggest you hold your tongue.”

The Sith Lord looked like he had never been spoken to before like that, “Oh?”

“You know how siblings are, Your Excellency.”

Count Dooku narrowed his eyes, “I did hear about your sister.”

“Ah yes,” Satine nodded, “she married your former apprentice.”

“Lovely,” The Count smirked, “we can say we met at the wedding.”

Satine gestured around her, “So this was all for naught, Your Excellency.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Dooku drawled.

“Good,” Satine straightened, “because this dress required extra seamstresses.”

Just as she’d hoped, the Count paused to admire her dress.

“It’s a lovely color on you,” he commented, “regal.”

The Duchess took the Count’s arm, “That is in my job description.”

Dooku huffed, his eyes wandering the crowd.

“Looking for someone, Your Excellency?”

The Count paused and looked down at the Duchess, who was about a head shorter.

“No, but is it too far out of the realm of politeness to ask for a second dance?”

Satine gave a playful sigh, “I suppose it’s not.”

Dooku led Satine onto the dance floor. Suddenly, Tyra’s voice appeared in her head.

“Dooku’s grooms are spies, they tried to plant evidence.”

The Duchess glowered.

“Are you well, Your Grace?”

“You do know, Your Excellency,” Satine smiled, “it is rude to come into someone's home and plant false evidence in hopes to stir up trouble, especially if you have been so kindly invited.”

The Count raised an eyebrow, but his voice betrayed nothing.

“And you would accuse me of such.”

“Proof, Your Excellency,” the Duchess spun, “speaks far louder than an accusation.”

Dooku was silent for a moment.

“And here I thought we’d reached an understanding,” he said finally.

“Oh, and what would that understanding be?”

They had danced by the musicians now, and the Count broke away to whisper into the ear of a string player.

“Your Excellency?”

In a quick second he was back, leading her father onto the dancefloor. Then, the music changed and Satine realized he was about to put on a show.

“An understanding?” the Duchess sneered as she curtsied.

It was a traditional Mandalorian dance known for its riveting, lively tune. They called it the Mandalorra, and Satine was not amused.

“I’m not wearing proper attire.” she spat at the Count.

“I practiced for this, Your Grace,” Dooku twirled her, “and it’s too late to stop me now.”

So they danced the spirited song, and Satine had to wonder if the Count was actually considering their union. It would be powerful and make a statement, plus add soldiers to the Seperatist ranks.

By the end, Satine was panting. She curtsied as the Count bowed, unsteady applause rang out through the ballroom.

“If you would be so kind, Your Grace,” Dooku took Satine’s hand, “I would love to meet your nephew.”

Satine looked for a way out of the situation, “My nephew?”

The Count raised an eyebrow, “After a dance like that, I’d thought you’d be delighted.”

“You mistake me for a schoolgirl, Your Excellency, this game of yours will not be won easily” the Duchess curtsied, “please excuse me.”

Satine signaled for Parna, who followed her lady. In the hallway, much of the guest chatter turned to low rumbles.

“Comm Khaami and tell her to watch Korkie,” she ordered quietly, “I’m worried for Tyra.”

The lady nodded and Satine made her way up towards where the count’s rooms would be. She didn’t have to go far to find evidence of a fight on the guest floor, strangely enough, Satine found no guards in this hallway.

“We have you cornered,” a voice threatened, “your meddling has been most annoying, but I will ask you again, where are the Duchess’ private quarters?”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” a new voice interrupted.

Satine peaked around the corner wall. Tyra was pinned up against the wall with a knife to her throat, and she couldn’t do anything without giving herself away. In front of her were four cronies dressed in black. Two held Tyra down and two turned to their right, facing a man in Mandalorian armor.

Tyra’s eyes met her mother’s, “Boba Fett, the bounty hunter, he’s close with Mara. I don’t know why he’s here.”

“Who are you?” one of the grooms asked.

“A friend of the lady’s,” Boba Fett answered, “and you should know it is rude to treat them as such.”

One of the men facing Boba Fett scoffed, the other raised his knife. Then a fight broke out. Satine shielded half her face behind the wall, keeping an eye on Tyra. She was perfectly still until her captors doubled over.

“Wait,” Tyra held out her hand, “tie them, we don’t want an incident.”

With a grunt Boba Fett agreed.

“You’ll regret this.” a groom spat.

“We won’t.” Tyra smiled, looking at her mother.

The bounty hunter pulled a recording device from his pocket and pressed pause.

“Well done, Sir,” Satine stepped out from behind the pillar, “if you would be so kind, I would very much appreciate that recording.”

Boba Fett bowed with a smile, “Of course, Your Grace.”

He handed the Duchess the recording, but she caught his hand.

“Thank you, Mister Fett,” she nodded, “tell Mara I am much appreciative for you and your skills.”

“I will, Your Grace,” the bounty hunter’s eyes twinkled, “you are most kind.”

“Would you be so helpful as to help drag these men into the main hallway?” Satine continued.

“Of course,” Boba nodded, “I assume Tyra is capable of assisting me?”

“She is, make sure these men get thrown in holding.”

Satine watched as the men were dragged into the main guest hallway, where a couple of early deperaters were astonished.

“Do pardon me,” the Duchess smiled politely, “I must speak with the Count.”

Unfortunately, Dooku was not in the ballroom, but Korkie and Khaami walked right up to her.

“He’s a master politician,” Korkie stuttered, “he seems like, like he knows something.” “Where did he go?” Satine asked.

“Into the garden with one off his assistants,” Khaami answered, “we sent Gorg after him.”

“Entertain the guests,” Satine ordered, “I’m going after him.”

The gardens were bright at this hour, yet menacing. Satine swallowed down her fear, no one would dare hurt her.

“Captured, you say?”

The Duchess paused and started a fresh recording.

“Yes, sir,” a mechanical voice beeped, “they were not able to plant the evidence.”

“Failures, we have to-” the Count paused, “another heartbeat.”

Satine hid the recording device up her sleeve just as the Count rounded the corner.

“Your Grace?” he smiled.

Satine stood, eyes narrow, “What a villain you are, Your Excellency.”

“You sound like your senator friend.” Dooku countered.

The Duchess raised an eyebrow, “You have given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

The Count sighed, “Long ago you were referred to as a she-wolf, now I see why.”

“I am very close to asking you to leave my system, Your Excellency,” Satine frowned, “give me one reason why you should stay.”

Dooku considered this for a moment before speaking.

“Because Mandalore hides more Sith secrets than you know.”

Satine tried to hide her surprise, “Oh?”

The count smirked, “I’ll see you in the morning, Your Grace.”

“Wait,” Satine commanded, “my guard?”

Dooku moved his hands and Gorg appeared, floating and grasping at his neck.

“No!” the Duchess ran to her friend.

“Concordia,” Gorg gasped, “Concordia.”

Then he passed out. The Duchess had her lower guards drag him to the medbay. Then she ran to her room, summoning Khaami, Parna, Tyra, Korkie, Tristan, and Hera. They met in her personal parlor and drew the blinds closed.

“What is it?” Korkie asked, his face drenched in worry.

Satine took the recording device out from her sleeve and turned to Parna, “I need copies of this.”

“Proof,” the lady’s eyes went wide, “my brother knows a person.”

“Good luck,” Satine passed over the device, “be careful.”

After Parna left, the Duchess locked the door and continued.

“The Separatists want to frame me for something,” Satine began, “and Gorg mentioned something about Concordia.”

“Death Watch?” Tistan asked.

“Perhaps,” Satine nodded, “they were looking for my personal quarters.”

Tyra’s comm dinged.

“It’s the Council,” she frowned, “they need a report.”

“Go in my room,” Satine ordered, “and keep quiet.”

The Duchess turned to her second son.

“You might have to help Tyra with her espionage endeavors.”

“Spying?” Tristan questioned.

“Spying.”

Khaami spoke up.

“The Count mentioned that he had friends in the Republic.”

“What?”

“It’s true, Lady Mother,” Korkie added, “it was subservient, but he stated that his sources kept him well informed.”

Satine put a hand to her head, “I must tell Padme.”

“There are also the grooms in the dungeon.” Khaami offered.

Satine sighed, “Thank you, boys, you’ve been helpful, announce that the party is over now

After a little argument, each son kissed Satine’s cheek and went off.

“I want Jaym to interrogate the grooms,” the Duchess ordered, “if need be we can use Tyra.”

Khaami nodded, “I shall go inform him.”

When Tyra returned from her call, she told her mother that her father would comm soon.

“That always makes me smile,” Satine softened, “will you help me change, Tyra, Hera?”

“Of course, Lady Mother.”

“Of Course, Satine.”

Once all her jewelry was placed in a box, Satine had Tyra run it to the jewel room.

“I’d hoped to show it to you myself,” she told her daughter, “but prepare to be astounded.”

Hera helped Satine out of her dress and Satine groaned. The nurse then helped Satine to the fresher.

“I can’t believe you gave birth and then held a diplomatic court visit.”

Satine sighed, “Royal life, what can you do?”.

When Satine emerged from the fresher some time later, Hera was talking to a blue Senator Amidala through the comm.

“Of course, my lady,” Hera smiled, “here she is now.”

With a groan Satine sat down.

“I must compliment you on your composure,” Padme began, “we met the twins just before the pictures came out, and that dress looked glorious.”

“Thank you, Padme,” Satine blushed, “is Obi-Wan there?”

A snide sound that could only have come from Anakin reached Satine.

“I am.” a familiar voice echoed.

Satine dismissed Hera with a wave, “How are the twins?”

“Oh my God,” Anakin whined, “they’re so cute!”

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeated calmly, “they are very cute.”

“And they’ve settled in quite well.” the Senator added.

The Duchess grinned, thinking of her daughters.

“How was the Count.”

Satine frowned, “Completely untrustworthy.”

Anakin snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“He tried to frame me,” Satine continued, still angry, “he’s involved with the criminal underworld, and he has a plot relating to Concordia!”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Also,” the Duchess frowned sympathetically, “he has spies in the Republic,”

A moment of silence.

“What?” Padme questioned, anger in her tone.

“Korkie mentioned that, in their conversation,” Satine paused, “he alluded to knowing things.”

Obi-Wan sighed, Anakin groaned.

“Was he specific?” the Senator questioned.

Satine shook her head, “No.”

“We have no definite proof,” Padme frowned, “but I will tell my friends to be on guard with what they say, and on the lookout.”

“Also,” Satine swallowed, “Dooku said Mandalore houses Sith secrets, I can’t imagine why.”

Padme tilted her head, “What?”

“Concordia,” Anakin gasped, “wasn’t it important in one of Mandalore’s wars with the Jedi?”

Obi-Wan gave him a look.

Master Skywalkler sighed, “Once you and Satine got back together I did research to find stuff to tease you about.”

“You,” Satine asked, “did research?”

“He has his priorities.” Padme explained.

“Death Watch inhabited Concordia last I was there.” Obi-Wan reminded.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Satine smiled.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps,” he began, “the library might have some more information on Mandalorian Sith lore.”

“We’ll look into it.” Anakin promised.

“Thank you,” Satine nodded, “tell Ahsoka and Quinlan I say hello.”

“Of course.” Padme grinned.

#obitine #obi wan kenobi #obiwan #satine x obiwan #korkie kenobi #Duchess Satine #satine kryze #anakin skywalker #padme amidala

15 notes · View notes

thumb3l1n4 · 4 years

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Thoughts on chapter #293 (AKA a very long post)

I made a post when chapter #292 came out and one person replied with "I love how everyone thinks that villain stans automatically agree with and condone the villains' actions". I don't think myself to be a villain stan, although I do love Horikoshi's villains, since they're all amazingly interesting characters. There are villains that I feel very compassionate to: Shigaraki, Dabi, Twice, Spinner and Toga. And I could instantly relate to Stain's philosophy, while being totally turned off by his actions. I don't think villain stans condone the violent actions of their favorite characters, I'm sorry if my previous post made people believe I do. But from the most recent releases I gathered that there is maybe a small fraction of villain stans that aren't really seeing the intricacies of the full picture. I don't mean this in a bad way: this is definitely the villains' time to shine and I know we were all waiting for the big Dabi-Endeavor showdown since theories were thrown around, so it's normal to be hyper-focused in what our favorite character is doing or what's happening with them. It's easy to forget that there are times and places where it's safe to show our compassion. I'm not gonna lie, I'm kinda annoyed that some villain stans seem to want the heroes to show compassion to Dabi right now, while they're in the middle of a battle that would decide the sorts of their society. Thanks to Dabi's speech, the civilian's faith in their "picture-perfect" system is crumbling (well, I hope so, because their society sucks on so many levels) and Best Jeanist, who was bashed for absolutely no reason all over Twitter last week, before the official translation was out, knew that that was Dabi's intention all along. Tōya could have told his own story right after Stain's video came out, if he so wanted. He chose to join the League, instead, because as we know now, he might have thought that he would have a better chance to kill Shōto, that way. I can't blame Tōya AT ALL for wanting and needing to see Endeavor, finally, rightfully, punished. However, Dabi throwing the compassion card around in the middle of a life-and-death situation (a situation where his main end-goal is to hurt people), is just peak manipulation...

... Which is awesome for a villain!

It's less awesome if you're standing on the Heroes' side and you're hearing about all the years of abuse that a colleague of yours put his family through, for the first time. I want to note that not a single Hero, till now, has said that they do not believe Dabi (not that I recall, at least). I saw one comment on Tumblr saying they didn't like that Best Jeanist used the word "dirty laundry", the chapter before, but I don't think the Hero said it in disrespect. I think it had more to do with Dabi's intentions behind revealing his truth, than Best Jeanist not believing him, or worse, dismissing him as a victim. Dabi's truth was called "dirty laundry" because Tōya didn't use it to seek justice, for himself and his family, but rather to get revenge on everyone, to create chaos and to excuse his own criminal actions. It's a truth tainted by hatred, not in the sense that fans of the manga and the Heroes should just forget about it: his past and pain are very, very real and Dabi and the rest of the villains need help. But the Heroes cannot take the time to feel sorry for their enemies, right at this moment, because if they do, that's the end. That's kinda what happened between Toga and Uraraka: she needs to stop Toga because while hurting people might come natural to the villain, that's not a healthy way to live. Toga didn't ask to be the way she is, and as a Hero, it should be Uraraka's job to give her the chance to get the treatment she didn't get as a child, that would teach Toga how to deal with her natural urges in a way that is not harmful to anyone. Mind you, Toga didn't seem to like the idea of conforming herself to anyone else's expectations, so she might not want the therapy. Uraraka would still need to give her all to stop the villain, no matter how sorry she actually feels inside for her.

If the villains win, the Heroes will not be able to rectify their society. Only after this fight ends and villains are taken into custody, it would be safe for the Heroes to show their honest reactions to Dabi's revelation. Only then we can hope to see them caring for the villains' health and their truths and possibly demand that Endeavor turns himself in (I actually want him to do so on his own, without external input). The Heroes aren't being heartless, if that's what some villain stans are thinking. They simply do no have the luxury to let Dabi's words manipulate them into feeling bad for him during a fight, because innocent people's lives are at stake here and just because Tōya had a horrible childhood, it doesn't mean that he's gonna care and let those innocent people be. Dabi wants to see the WHOLE world burn.

Onto Deku, now, the second character in two weeks accused by some, of being an abuse apologist.

He's the first character EVER to confront Endeavor on his treatment of Shōto, after seeing how his own classmate was spiralling and hurting himself, because Shōto didn't want to use HIS OWN Quirk to prevent himself from quite literally freeze to death, all because of Endeavor's abuse.

Deku has always wanted to follow All Might's steps and like All Might, he wishes to be able to save everyone in need. Toshinori, however, already told him that that's not realistic and Deku accepted the fact that he can only save the people in need that he's able to reach and as we saw with Shōto, Kota and Eri, he's ready to lay out his own life and break every single bone in his body to do so. He's so determined to save people, even against the worst of odds, that he can twist fate. I think it's exactly this determination of his that made him speak out this time, not only for Shōto, but for Endeavor, too. Do I like that Deku cares? Yes, I'm glad that people like Deku exist, people that genuinely care and wish and pray for criminals to regret what they've done so they can have a chance to right their wrongs and become a better person. Do I think Deku would stop Endeavor from turning himself in or defend Endeavor in front of the other Heroes so they don't take him away and bring him to justice? I might be wrong, Horikoshi can still make a fool out of me, but I don't think so. Deku knows the years of abuse are there and they will never go away. Deku is also the guy who told off Natsuo for trying to make Shōto feel resentful towards their father, when Shōto was somewhat past that and only wanted to heal. Deku recognized that the siblings have all different ways to deal with trauma and told Natsuo that his feelings are valid, but he can't push them onto Shōto, because Shōto's feelings on the matter are just as valid, even if they don't align with those of his big brother.

Just like villain stans can feel compassion towards Dabi because of his past, while being repulsed by his criminal actions in the present, Deku can feel repulsed by Endeavor's abuse of his own family and still see that a part of him (no matter how little it is) wishes to be a better human being. Deku didn't say that Endeavor should be automatically forgiven for his past actions, no one can deny that the abuse still has serious repercussions for every Todoroki involved (yes. EVERY). But the thing with Deku is that once he's seen this tiny, barely-even-there, light in you, he will fight to save you. I don't think that the people calling Deku an abuse apologist are giving his intuition or insight enough credit.

Dabi's not Endeavor: this means that Deku hasn't seen anything in this fight that might hint to Tōya wanting to be saved. Again, the same thing happened between Toga and Uraraka. And sadly, even Twice and Hawks (Hawks miscalculated sooo bad there). It's unfortunate that phrases like "you can only save someone if they want to be saved" and "you cannot help someone who refuses to be helped" still apply to this world, but that's the ugly truth and I'm sure that to someone like Deku that's a very hard and bitter pill to swallow. Endeavor said he wants to right his wrongs: in my opinion, he's still got a lot of work to do, since he should have really started it all off by being honest to everyone about his actions and let justice do its course. During this battle I'm forced to recognize (like Deku does) that Endeavor might actually be able to reedem himself, after actually atoning for his crimes. I cannot say the same for Dabi, because he doesn't want to atone for the bad things he has done. I didn't see Deku's speech as him excusing Endeavor's abuse to his victim or conceding the point to Tōya, that Heroes don't care about villains. I saw it as Deku telling Dabi to stop using his own abuse as an excuse to hurt other victims (Shōto, Natsuo, Fuyumi and Rei) because as harsh as it sounds, Tōya can't demand compassion for his own pain while being uncapable of showing compassion to his own little brother. Maybe Tōya doesn't actually know everything that Shōto has suffered through, maybe he thinks that his little brother got lucky with his Quirk and didn't have it as bad as he did. That's not his place to say. Dabi is making a contest out of their family's pain, trying to declare which Todoroki got it worse (clearly believing that it's him and that that allows him to do whatever he wants to, now), so I reiterate: he can't ask for compassion in the middle of the battle and the Heroes are actually doing the right thing, not letting themselves being manipulated like that and basically forfeiting the fight.

AFTER this arc ends, I truly hope to see the Heroes showing their compassion for the villains. I hope they would get rid of that obnoxious Hero Ranking and that the society would stop festering the idea that only certain Quirks and their users are strong and valuable and deserving of a voice. I hope they could change their world so that people like Tenko, Tōya, Jin, Himiko and Shuichi are able to ask for help AND BE HELPED before it is too late.

#bnha 293 #bnha dabi #toya todoroki #endeavor #bnha deku #midoriya izuku #bnha mha #this is so long #sorry lmao #you might get bored before you finish reading #sorry for any mistakes #english is not my first language

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, MIMZ! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF RAPHAEL.

Admin Rosey: I never really thought that Raphael’s application would be so f u n to read. Macabre? Absolutely. Impassioned? Of course. But hilarious to the point where I was giggling? Definitely unexpected but that is what made this so enjoyable and it is ultimately why this application received a r e s o u n d i n g yes from each of us. There was a perspective that I always envisioned for Raphael but was never able to articulate it myself until you laid it out, word by word, with this application, Mimz. Raphael is such a multi-faceted and character that holds so much potential, and the way that you wove it into every aspect of the application made this so fun to read. Thank you so much for taking the time to produce such a wonderful application! Your faceclaim change to Kendrick Sampson has been approved. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias

mimz

Age

Personal Pronouns

she/her

Activity Level

i’ll typically check the dash every day, and i try not to keep replies stewing for longer than a couple of days! that said i can be a little slow, especially around exam seasons.

Timezone

pst

Triggers

REMOVED

How did you find the group?

miss minnie bleubeard’s blog

IN CHARACTER

Character

raphael, with a fc change to kendrick sampson

What drew you to this character?

short answer: divine amorality sexy HAHAHAHA

long answer: there was something i read a little while ago about some of the best surgeons being able to dehumanize their patients to a rather frightening degree. there’s a level of abstraction that you need in order to not let your empathy get in the way of the practice of medicine; ultimately, a body is a body is a body, right? and then there’s the moral quandary of healing - it is a doctor’s duty to heal, but what does that actually mean? to what extent is a doctor’s duty to relieve suffering? to obstinately prolong life? if the body heals but the mind still ails, is a person healed? what i’m getting at, here, is that in some ways the healer is the most dangerous character of all.

when i read raphael’s bio, there was a quote in that article from a surgeon named david cheever that came to mind: “as a result of anaesthetics, the surgeon ‘need not hurry; he need not sympathise; he need not worry; he can calmly dissect, as on a dead body.’” to me, raphael is an explosion and expansion of this concept. raphael is, quite literally, a medical ethicist’s worst nightmare, and to me, that’s absolutely fascinating. without sympathy, what separates a healer from an educated control freak with a god complex? with raphael, we can extend this concept to its furthest extreme. raphael isn’t even human - how could he even begin to sympathize with an experience so foreign to him? why would he worry about something trivial as human suffering when it essentially exists as a theoretical concept to him? divine beings have no reason to play by human rules, and as a creature raised by god’s side raphael was so far removed from the concept of human suffering that it’s sort of a no-brainer that he developed a sick fascination with it, like a child who managed to con their parent into buying a grand theft auto game and is obsessed with running over pedestrians because the stakes never quite feel real. it’s a perspective i’d absolutely love to explore in a group rp setting because the nature of rp means that it’s kind of...completely unsustainable? like as writers we’re shoving these characters together, which means that raphael will have to be exposed to mortals. there’s room for a lot of character development there, and it seems like something extremely interesting to explore.

BUT HERE’S THE THING⁠—and this is where the character gets really fun, in my opinion. i’ve talked a fair bit about god complexes already, but when applied to raphael an interesting question is raised: how much is a complex, and how much of it is actually being divine? what really made me want to get my grubby little hands on the reins of raphael’s story was seeing the disconnect between the way his connections are written from raphael’s perspective versus the other character’s perspective. it’s a fun little hubristic shade that makes him an unreliable narrator and infinitely more interesting than a simple morality thought experiment. i think it’s easy to see raphael as this super cool, all-powerful master manipulator (i think that’s a pretty accurate take on his self-image, in fact), but he’s not the only player in this game. for every pawn he’s trying to move, there is someone else trying to use him in a similar way, and i don’t know that he truly understands the ramifications of that. see, i think it’s easy to reduce raphael to the points i discuss in the previous paragraphs because that’s what he wants you to think of him. but this is a world of gods and superpowers and magical political intrigue and game of thrones doesn’t exist so nobody can tell him that he’s on the path to becoming a cersei lannister (admittedly i haven’t watched got so this reference might not be right but i feel like it’s right so uh. yeah!). maybe i just like to see arrogant men getting knocked down a peg? this might be a projection of that. i dunno. i just know that there are quite a few mind games and mental gymnastics to untangle with raphael and that’s fun. he’s fun.

also. i would like to once again reiterate: divine amorality sexy. it’s not good, to be clear, and i don’t condone it, but i’m just saying.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

WHEN THE CITY CRUMBLES AROUND YOU AND YOU HOLD ITS VESTIGES IN YOUR HANDS, WHOM DO YOU BLAME?

i think Raphael’s big character arc revolves around a simple question: how far are you willing to go to achieve what you want?

ostensibly, it’s an easy answer: very far. but when your desire is antithetical to your very purpose, when chasing it puts you at odds with the thing you’ve worked to build, do the goalposts move?

(the correct answer is that raphael did not build caelum. he simply destroyed god.)

let’s say, hypothetically, that raphael gets what he wants. the world is thrown into war and chaos and destruction, yadda yadda, raphael gets his blood and his suffering, great. he’s lived through this before (a couple times, actually), so you think he’d realize by now—eventually, the dust will settle. people will tire of suffering. and where will that leave raphael? how many times will you remake the world to watch it burn? can you ever be fulfilled chasing a temporary high?

(the correct answer is no, but raphael is an immortal being. more importantly, he is a patient one. he will wait a million days for rome to be built, if only to witness the single day in which it will burn.)

i think raphael needs to reckon with these questions. i think he’s lived far too long with his mentality unquestioned and that has made him both insufferable and a major threat to society. this is a long and pretentious way to say that raphael honestly kind of needs a hobby whatever the thc-verse equivalent of therapy is, but i think any sort of positive character development is contingent upon a recontextualization of suffering and chaos and raphael’s masks.

of course, this isn’t to say that introspection will only lead to positive character development. perhaps a raphael who looks deeper into his psyche will come to understand that his desires outweigh his role; perhaps such thoughts will push raphael over the edge of propriety and into something more outwardly despicable. no matter what, though, i think that the direction of raphael’s character development will be largely shaped on how he decides to prioritize his⁠ roles and goals.

FOR WHOM DO THESE HANDS HEAL?

let’s discuss the archangels, shall we? despite it all, raphael genuinely loves his brothers. i would argue, even, that raphael believes that his scheming is in service to the other archangels; he’s not blind to the way complacency has softened the angels. at this point, the only true threat to the angels is themselves—if michael wants to to unlock a state of sanctifying grace, it will happen at the hand of one of his kin.

i spoke earlier about raphael’s goals ultimately being futile. this is largely because they are diametrically opposed to michael and gabriel’s goals, and while raphael knows this intellectually, i don’t think he’s quite thought about what the long-term implications of that conflict entails. he’s so caught up in the conflict between michael and gabriel that he’s neglected to consider how he factors into the dynamic. could he be the common ground that brings michael and gabriel together? could he be the final straw that breaks them apart? he is excited for the fighting, the fallout; but has he stopped to consider what the long-reaching effects of such a rift may be?

raphael is breaking his family apart because he loves them. will that be enough, when he is sent to pick up the pieces? whose side will he fall on, if he is to pick a side at all?

DID PYGMALION FALL IN LOVE WITH THE BEAUTY OF HIS CREATION, OR THE BEAUTY HE CREATED?

i said this in the previous section but i’d like to reiterate it: i think a big reason raphael is Like That is because the stakes have never quite felt real to him. raphael’s a pot stirrer, but he’s not a creature of action. to this, i say give him real stakes. to be honest, i don’t know exactly what that entails, because i could see a number of ways in which tangible pressure manifests itself for raphael. perhaps his meddling with michael and gabriel steps too far, and his brothers perhaps the angels become suspicious of his maneuvering, in which the spider is drawn into his own web of intrigue. maybe we apply positive pressure, where the ails of the world require a healer and raphael is tapped to higher purpose⁠—and higher power. maybe raphael will find himself tempted by the very demons he holds in contempt.

the point is that raphael has largely been a character who acts through others. even now, we see this through his grooming of romilda, with his subtle manipulation of michael and gabriel. i want him to become a more active character, either by his own volition or by his hand being forced.

similarly, i’m extremely interested in seeing how raphael navigates the political elements of this verse. i expect it stings a bit to be the only archangel not given a position of leadership; perhaps he holds lingering resentment toward zadkiel for being given a role raphael had expected to receive. does he subtly undermine zadkiel’s leadership? i want to watch him play up tensions with the vices, to hide a vicious war-hawk perspective under the guise of a concerned healer. i want him to smile in abaddon and samael’s faces and plot their suffering in his mind. i want to see the snake slither in the grass, to return to his original form as a spider spinning a web of intrigue across his court. yes, i want a more active raphael, but i think the political drama is ripe for development, as well.

WHEN I SPIT UP MY SINS AND BEG FOR REPENTANCE, WHAT WILL COME UP?

this one’s a long shot, but i could maybe...see...raphael……..falling. i can guarantee you that the idea has never even crossed raphael’s mind, and that he would literally rather be smited than be cast out of caelum, but i can see it. i think he might be happier, actually; if he fell, he could really lean into the chaos and suffering thing without any compunction.

of course, this is something infinitely easier said than done. were raphael to be cast out of caelum, he would have nowhere to go. infernum would never take him⁠—he’s made far too many enemies among their ranks. he could wander the holy land, but he’s far too proud to bind himself to its existing social systems. (he wouldn’t be able to look gabriel in the eye.)

raphael would have absolutely nothing.

but he would also be free.

that’s right, i think that a horsemen-style liberation arc would be an absolute banger for raphael. again, i don’t think it’s feasible unless a very specific set of circumstances happen, but just imagine a raphael with nothing to lose, free to go absolutely apeshit. his only prerogative is to make sure you have a bad day. he is free to sow whatever chaos, whatever suffering he so wishes across the land. WHEW.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

yes, but i don’t see him going down easily.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

entomological curiosity, in short. consider: why did god leave the apple in the garden of eden? why do humans keep animals in glass cases? why do children burn ants with magnifying glasses?

raphael wants to observe the world. a good healer must understand his patients at a fundamental level, and such truths are only revealed when the subject is broken down to its basest parts. you see, raphael was weaned on temperance and virtue; there is a lush decadence to emotional extremes that he finds most fascinating. they are debased. they are crass. they are wantonly sentimental, in a garishly beautiful way.

but this is not all. he wants to stave off boredom, and these are the tools he has to play with. for all of his machinations, raphael is a simple being. raphael has no grand ambitions, no lofty ideals, and that is what makes him so dangerous. he wants to be amused. he wants to be stimulated. he wants to observe a world in which things happen.

ostensibly, this is not as selfish a motivation as it may seem. as a healer, raphael knows something that many do not: serenity cannot exist in perpetuity. it is impossible for the world to remain unchanged⁠—even if the change is not evident, it is happening. an eternal peace is all but a stagnation of the kingdom; the only thing stagnation breeds is degradation. the angels are weakening because they are not being challenged. michael and the virtues may be doing extensive research to find an alternate explanation, but raphael knows this to be the truth.

of course, the irony underlying the selfless explanation of raphael’s motivations reveals the truth of the matter: it is a farce. perhaps it is a lie that raphael has even convinced himself he believes, but it is farcical nonetheless. raphael claims he wants to invoke change because stagnation is dangerous, but riddle me this⁠—if this is true, why has raphael never changed? centuries upon centuries have passed, and the world has changed around him, but raphael himself has remained largely unchanged. he is the orchestrator of change, not its agent nor its subject, and that is just the way he would like things to stay.

Character Traits

CHARISMATIC - there’s a reason very few have cottoned on to raphael’s true nature, and it’s not (just) his pretty face and magical girl-esque aura. there’s something effortlessly captivating about raphael, a pace to his cadence that has you hanging on to his every word, a lightness to his smile that makes you want to coax it out whenever and however you can. everything about raphael puts people at ease, except for his eyes, which tend to put people on edge if he’s not careful. he’s not gregarious or the outgoing sort of charismatic by any means, but he does manage to exude an overwhelming charisma.

PATIENT - it’s important to remember that before raphael turned on god, he waited for him. raphael performed healings for centuries and never raised a hand against his father in that time. think of all the angels that fell, that rebelled; raphael was not among them. no, raphael played the dutiful son, allowing his resentment to fester and boil deep underneath his skin, but never to surface. for centuries he served loyally, biding his time. remember: lucifer fell. raphael did not. which one killed god? as i mentioned in the plot section, raphael will wait a million days for rome to be built to witness the single day it burns. prolonged suffering is perhaps the most beautiful of all. fortitude goes hand-and-hand with patience.

INTELLIGENT - in a few ways. raphael is well-studied, with extensive knowledge of biology and chemistry and history and politics. raphael is emotionally intelligent; he hides his true nature behind a veneer constructed to meet expectations. he may not be as talented as gabriel in this regard, but it is a skillful construction nonetheless.

MANIPULATIVE - i mean. yeah.

ARROGANT - he thinks he’s smarter than god???????????????? tbf god was a bit of a headass in this universe but we’ve all read enough tragedies to know where this kind of hubris ends up going.

CRUEL - there’s a bit to unpack here. i’d argue that there are two types of cruelty: malicious cruelty and callous cruelty. raphael is certainly capable of both, but i think he embodies the latter. with certain notable exceptions, raphael’s cruelty is rarely personal; it is a thoughtless sort of cruelty, the type inflicted upon beings considered expendable. raphael is selfish and petty and powerful, and these traits coalesce into a casual cruelty.

In-Character Para Sample cw: light gore

Look at how they look at him. God’s good little lambs, lined up all in a row, passive and pliant and patiently awaiting benediction. Patiently waiting for Raphael.

Raphael hates them.

No. This is false. It is difficult for Raphael to muster up stronger feelings toward mortals than a vague sort of amusement, the sort of affinity one might have for a particularly stupid kit when it does something surprisingly clever. In this regard, he understands that he differs from his kin. Gabriel, in particular, has developed a particular fondness for the mortals. Why anyone would wish to strip mortals of their most fascinating behavior⁠—to the point of openly defying their Father⁠—is beyond Raphael. He has given up on trying to reason with his brother on the matter.

The first supplicant is beckoned forward. They pray to the Lord and Raphael touches their forehead with one palm, cups their chin with the other. His fingers splay carelessly around a throat all but bared to him and the ceremony is so mechanical Raphael allows his thoughts to wander⁠.

How easy it would be to tighten his grip. How beautiful it would be, to watch the lamb’s naive adoration flash into fear, to watch fear darken into betrayal and resentment and the most beautiful emotion of all: despair. He can feel the pulse at his fingertips. It would quicken in a stress response, he knows. It would quicken, then it would pound, and then maybe it would stop. It all falls to Raphael’s whim. In this moment, Raphael holds their life in his hands. They have all but laid on his sword for the promise of absolution and when they look up at Raphael with their dumb, trusting eyes he can see the sparkling tracks where tears once fell, down the hollow of a cheek into the pool of a collarbone. He finds himself overcome with the desire to trace the fall with his tongue. “Give me your pain,” he murmurs. Let me taste it. Let me understand.

He takes it. He does not taste it. He does not understand.

He releases the mortal. Those beautiful tear tracks are already fading. “The Lord be with you,” he says, and perhaps he even means it. His Father’s gaze burns into his back, even from a world away. He’d laugh at the irony, were he free to. Is this the weight you so desire? he wants to ask the devotee. No, Raphael knows the truth: God’s love is a shackle. God’s love is a leash and it is holding Raphael back from his fullest potential.

“And also with you,” the lamb responds. Their head is bowed obediently in prayer and they shuffle away, appropriately awed. The next supplicant is beckoned forward.

The light of Raphael’s presence obfuscates the darkness in his eyes.

—

Later, much later, Raphael finds himself studying his hands. He flexes them, balls them into fists, stretches his fingers as far as they will spread.

How easy it would be to tighten his grip.

The hand is at once an individual unit and a summation of individual parts. The hand contains twenty-seven bones and thirty-four muscles connected by over a hundred ligaments and tendons. Wrists connect to metacarpals, which connect to carpals, which taper off into delicate phalanges. Individually, each of these parts are largely useless; were Raphael to take a scalpel and drag it through a tendon, across the joints, the strings would be cut and the puppetry would cease to dance. You would be left with a small pile of carpals and metacarpals and phalanges, loose strings of muscle and tendon. At times, it is difficult to fathom how such mundane component parts are the instruments of extraordinary acts.

Raphael flexes his hand, watches bone shift under skin. If he remembers correctly, mortals have an idiom about knowing your hands, or something along those lines. He will not pretend to be familiar with mortal culture. Did you know that, wings aside, mortals and angels all have the same bone structure?

Of course you did. It is common knowledge that God made all beings in His image, or so the story goes.

This is an easy answer, but one with interesting implications. Let us extrapolate. If mortals and angels are essentially biological mirrors, and each are made in the image of God, does that mean that God will bleed like His creations? Slide a scalpel across God’s knuckles—will His puppets cease to dance?

Raphael could find out. It would take only a single blade, sliced through a single tendon.

Now, Raphael is not so arrogant to believe himself the blade. He would not even consider himself the hand. Such a role requires a particular kind of conviction—

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in bitter disillusionment⁠—the sort inflicted upon Michael. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s capriciousness and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in righteous anger⁠—the sort inflicted upon Gabriel. How easy it would be to find himself in his brother’s ear, whispering of their Father’s neglect and the unnecessary cruelty that resulted for the poor, poor humans— )

( —and that sort of conviction is made manifest in a whetted hunger⁠—the sort God gifted to each of His angels. Hunger breeds hunters and heaven is full— )

—that Raphael simply cannot embody. Rage has never been his forte.

Consider, however, that the hand is controlled by nerve impulses. A spark is all the hand needs to transform from a collection of bone to an agent of action. Yes. He clenches his fists. Here are the bones, the veins, the tendons, the muscle. Angels and mortals all share the same bone structure.

Does God?

Extras

pinterest.

raphael has classically beautiful wings. i’m talking TEXTBOOK cherubic angel wings, with the sweeping white feathers and all. raphael kind of hates them, though he takes a great deal of pride in them.

raphael doesn’t have a signature weapon. he’s proficient with blades, yes, and fights with a surgeon’s precision, not the strongest nor the fastest but eerily efficient in his blows. but he is a healer—at the end of the day, his empty hands are all he needs. (his empty hands are what you should fear.)

raphael hates the heretics pro forma but. but. he cannot deny a certain...fondness for them. the heretics exhibited such dedication to a futile cause; they believed their suffering to be something noble. it’s a laughable notion, certainly, but a sentiment so distinctly human it’s almost charming. should they wish to return, to throw themselves on the knife over and over and over, well. raphael shall not complain. he shall smile beatifically, perhaps abate their suffering, even⁠—and watch them do it again.

in a modern au, raphael is a reality tv producer. ok actually he’s probably a surgeon but i think he’d make a very good reality tv producer. alternately, there is a universe out there where raph fixated on like...baking, or k-pop, instead of suffering. those are good timelines, i think. maybe not the k-pop stan timeline.

raphael is the living embodiment of that dwight schrute “we need a new plague” meme.

#accepted #accepted: raphael

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