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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

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Last Laugh (1 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Richard?”

…

“Richard, may I come in?”

…

“If you do not want me to come in then you need to tell me.”

…

“I’m coming in.”

Light filled the room for a moment then disappeared. The bed shifted and a hand settled on Dick’s back.

…

“Barbara told me what happened.”

Heat. A ringing in his ears. “BATKID!” “Red Wing, please!” Digging. Bodies. “No. Jason.” A mother and son… or a pair of acrobats… Blood. Footprints leading to tire tracks. “My son, I’m so sor-Robin? Robin, get back here!”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Why can’t I come with you and Jon?” “You’re not quite ready for a space mission yet, Richard. I’ve talked to Father, though. He said you could patrol with him and Jason until I return so long as you two don’t get into too much trouble.” “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, his voice hoarse.

“Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve clipped the wings of a baby bat and a baby bird on the same day!” Zap! “Haha! Aw Jeez, I hit Batkid harder than that!” “Shut up!” “So,” a groan, “the first Demon Child taught you a,” a hiss, “a few tricks, hahaha!” “I said shut! Up!” “Hahahaha!” “ROBIN!” “B?” “He’s had enough.” “He killed -” “I know. I… I know.” “Don’t worry, Boy Blunder, you’ll join him soon enough!” “What are you talking ab-” “Robin! Move now!” An explosion.

“I killed him.”

The hand started rubbing circles into Dick’s back. “That’s not true.”

“If I hadn’t attacked him like that, if I hadn't beaten him as bad as I did, he would have made it out.”

“He was the one who set off the explosion, Richard. That’s not on you.” The hand shifted up to Dick’s shoulder and tugged him closer to the warm presence next to him.

He pressed his face into the warmth as another hand came up to card through his hair. “B thinks it’s my fault.”

“Father doesn't think anything right now. He’s still processing his grief. We all are. You are not at fault for what happened. If Joker is dead -- and his body still hasn’t been found so we don’t even know if he is finally gone -- then it is no one's fault but his own.”

Dick shook his head. “I shouldn’t’ve attacked him.”

There was a pause, then a sigh. “No, you should not have. It was extremely reckless and we… You could have gotten yourself killed. You are extremely lucky Joker had not expected you to be with Father so you were able to catch him off guard. Impulsive behavior… It’s already taken Jason, you can’t let it take you too.”

Dick’s fingers dug into his calves from where his arms were wrapped around his legs.

“I found my mom.” “Batkid? B said -” “It’s okay. She said Joker isn’t here. It’s safe. We’re going to talk inside so no one sees us.” “But -” “I can talk her around, Red Bird. I know I can. Please, don’t tell B. She’s my mom.” “O-okay. Just be careful.” “It’ll be fine. She said he won’t be back for hours.”

She lied.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I-That’s not what I mea-”

“Yes, it was.”

Another sigh. The warmth moved away so the hand in his hair could come down to cup his cheek. It brushed away his tears and tilted his head up, but he didn’t look at the face hovering over him. “Richard -”

“I wanna be alone now. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m tired.”

There was a beat, then the hands and warmth and face moved away. “Alright. Get some rest. I have to go talk to Father. If… I am here if you need anything.”

Dick nodded and laid down with his back to the warmth.

The light came and went.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they returned from Ethiopia, Bruce told Dick he’d be benched for a month. It was partly to give his injuries from the fight with Joker time to heal and partly as punishment for running off to said fight. Damian had agreed when he arrived back on Earth a week later and Dick accepted the punishment without complaint.

By the end, though, he was itching to get out of the manor. He hated being trapped in one place for too long. With the media going crazy over Jason’s death, Bruce had managed to arrange for him to finish the last few weeks of school from home and Damian decided they would remain at the manor instead of heading back to their house in Somerset. It was a longer commute to work and patrol for Damian and meant Dick couldn’t run around the neighborhood to visit with his friends, but it was also more secure against paparazzi.

Dick wouldn’t complain since he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling trapped.

On the day he was meant to go back on patrol, he was skipping through the halls in anticipation of stretching his wings and releasing the tension that had built up under his grief and guilt. He went looking for Damian once he got home to see if he wanted to spar before dinner. When he couldn’t find him in his room or studio, he went to see if Alfred, Bruce, or Selina knew where he was.

“- for a month. I think that’s a fair amount of time.”

Dick perked up when he heard Damian’s voice and ran up to the door to Bruce’s study.

“I don’t mean he should stay on the bench. I meant Robin should be taken off the roster altogether.”

He froze, hand inches from the doorknob.

“I know he shouldn’t have gone after Joker -”

“It’s not just that. Dick… He never should have been brought into this life. He’s not like us and he was too young.”

“I was younger than him when I started out as Batkid,” Damian snapped.

“You were raised by assassins. He had a normal life before you involved him. He deserves a normal life. I know you wanted to help him, but this isn’t the way.”

Bruce was angry. Dick had known that. He didn’t think Bruce would take Robin away from him though. Robin was… his purpose. His place in the family. Without Robin, he didn’t have any reason to be there. And if he wasn’t there…

“Heard Wayne’s taking Grayson.” “Really? Knew his old man liked strays, but I thought he stuck to animals. Why’s he coming for the kid?” “To honor Brucie’s memory? Hell if I know.” “Well, whatever reason, I hope the kid can behave.” “Yeah. Lord knows Wayne hates people at the best of times, can’t imagine how he’ll take to having a brat running around.” “He’d probably return the kid the first time he acts up. Doubt the poor ***** will get another chance too.”

No, Dick couldn’t lose Robin. But Dick was Damain’s partner and Damian wouldn’t let Bruce do that, right? Right?

Why wasn’t Damian saying anything?

“This is what Richard needs,” Damian finally said after a few moments, but the happiness at his words was overshadowed by the ice sliding down Dick’s spine from how calm Damian sounded.

Why wasn’t he mad anymore?

Was… Was he starting to think Bruce was right?

“No, it isn’t,” Bruce said.

“How is he any different than the rest of us?” Damian asked, voice still calm.

“You were raised by assassins. As was Cass. Duke was in a gang. Tim raised himself in that damn empty mansion and spent years trailing after us through Gotham’s streets with nothing but a camera. And Jason lived on those streets.”

Tearing up, Dick wrapped his arms around himself. He knew he wasn’t as smart or skilled as the others, but he’d thought…

“Dick might not have had a typical childhood, but he had a happy one. He grew up with an entirely different mentality than us. You saw how he looked when he went after Joker.”

Dick flinched. He remembered the rage that had flooded through him. He knew he shouldn’t have gone after Joker. That it was stupid and reckless and wrong. Not justified vengeance, just plain old revenge. The very thing Damian had tried to instill against when he’d started out.

But at the time all he could think was that Jason was dead, had been murdered like his parents, and his family kept dying around him and Joker was to blame. He hadn’t meant to go as far as he did, he hadn’t meant for Joker to die!

He just wanted everyone to be safe.

The worst thing, though, was that as much as he wasn’t proud of how he’d run off and put himself in danger, as terrified as he was that he had killed someone, he didn't regret what he’d done to Joker.

“He doesn’t belong in this life, Damian.”

Dick froze. No. No! Losing Robin was one thing, but to not belong…

“I understand.”

Dick staggered back, hand coming to his mouth as the tears fell. He quickly ran back the way he’d come before the sobs could start.

They couldn’t… They couldn’t!

It was one mistake! It was a bad one, but he knew the others had had bad mistakes too. They couldn’t get rid of him for that, right?

Except the others were Bruce’s sons, and he was just Damian’s foster kid. He thought it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t really family on paper, but maybe it did.

“You’re not getting a family, circus freak.” “Yeah, foster kids ain’t family. They’re just a paycheck.” “Or some rich bastard’s charity case.” “Either way, no one actually cares about them even if they have to pretend to. And no one would care about someone like you.”

Dick barely stopped himself from slamming the door behind him as he staggered into a closet. He dropped to the floor, pressing his knees into his eyes.

He couldn’t go back to juvie. Losing Robin would be torture, but going back to that hellhouse would kill him. Maybe even literally.

He technically wasn’t as defenseless as he was last time. He was sure he’d probably be able to take anyone that tried to hurt him if he tried, but he wouldn’t be able to try. He wouldn’t be Robin going in. He’d be Dick Grayson, former foster son of Damian Wayne. He couldn’t use any of the skills he’d gained as Robin without risking his identity -- former identity -- and the identities of the rest of the Bats by extension. And he would never do that, even if they did return him.

No, he couldn’t go back to juvie, but where else could he go. It’d been made pretty clear both when he got there and when he left that there was nowhere else he’d be sent. Maybe Babs or Cass would take him? Or maybe they could talk Damian around? Duke, Steph, Tim, and Selina would help, right?

Unless they thought Bruce and Damian were right.

“I understand.”

No, they would talk them around. They had to.

Except Bruce and Damian -- like the rest of the family -- were stubborn. Would the others be able to talk them around before they shipped him off?

Maybe if he could buy them time…

He couldn’t go back to juvie.

Dick scrubbed his eyes and got up to slip out of the closet.

His first stop was the cave. He couldn’t grab his normal suit without anyone noticing, but the updated version had just finished testing and hadn’t yet been equipped with trackers. He stuck it into a lockbox alongside some gear.

Then he was up in his room. He stuck the box into a duffle bag with his travel toiletries.

Before he could grab anything else, there was a knock on his door.

He quietly zipped up the bag and knocked it under the bed as he called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Richard. Can we talk?”

Dick dropped onto the bed. “Yeah, sure.”

Damian came in with a plate of cookies.

Dick grabbed one, but didn’t press up against his guardian like he normally would.

“You already know why I’m here,” Damian sighed.

“I overheard you talking with Bruce. You’re…” He clenched his fingers around the cookie as he looked up at Damian. “Don’t do this, please. I can be better. I-I won’t do anything like this again, I swear! Please, you can’t! We’re a team. We’re partners! You said so yourself! You cant… you can’t just toss that aside! Toss me aside!”

“It’s not like that, Richard,” Damian said, setting down the plate.

“Then what is it like!” Dick snapped and jumped to his feet, placing them eye-to-eye.

“This life isn’t good for you,” the young man said, meeting his gaze. “Bringing you into it, it was a terrible error in judgment. Father is right. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

“It’s not like you forced me into it! I chose this! I want this!”

“You could have been killed, Dick!” Damian said, voice growing louder.

“I’m sorry! I let my emotions get the best of me! But it won’t happen again!”

“It’s over, Dick!”

“No! You can’t do this! I-I won’t let you! You can’t se-”

“Enough!” Damian shouted, then pressed a hand over his face. In a calmer voice, he said, “I’ve made my decision.”

“Dami, please!” Dick felt tears pricking at his eyes as Damian stood up and turned to leave.

“You’re going to stay here until after the funeral next week. We can talk more about what happens after once you’ve calmed down.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re better off this way.”

“Wayne is going to be the best chance you’re going to get, kiddo. The only good chance, honestly. I really hope this works out for you.”

“I hate you.”

Damian hesitated by the door, then shut it behind him.

Dick couldn’t go back to juvie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lines quoted or rewritten:

"Imagine how mad he'll be if I've whacked two Boy Wonders on the same day!" - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Aw... Jeez... I hit Jason a lot harder than that." - Joker ~ Joker: Last Laugh #6

"Bruce... You... You can't! We're a team. We're partners! You said so yourself!" - Dick ~ Robin: Year One #3

"This was all a terrible error in judgment. Gordon was right." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

"It’s over, Dick! You’re better off this way." - Bruce ~ Robin: Year One #3

#batfam #reverse robins #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #batkid and robin

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docholligay · 3 years

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In The Desert

My second of three eventual Passover fics, finally done, if literally nothing else. 4,500ish words, and I hope you enjoy it at least somewhat!

Moses never saw the Promised Land. He guided others to it, but he died before he ever set foot in that promised space, before he ever was allowed to know the feeling of safety and peace and home. To reach the goal he had longed for.

Mercy tried not to think too much on this, and told herself often that the Promised Land was only a place, and maybe it was Moses’ short-sightedness that did not allow him to see that the Promised Land was had while he wandered, in the arms of his wife, in the giggles of Jewish children knowing what it was to grow up free, in knowing that he had guided his people to something far more frightening but far greater. To inspire them to live a life of uncertainty, with great risk, but great reward. The Promised Land was where you found it, Mercy would say, often.

Sometimes she even believed it. This year was harder.

Was he ever resentful, she wondered, absent-mindedly setting the low table, for the punishment? That for one moment, he reacted in anger and bitterness instead of in patience and grace, that he lashed out, and so was barred from the doors of promise forever? Mercy thought on these things, and her own trespass against God, wondering which had kept her wandering all these years, without the promise she had so hoped for.

Sitting in Canada with her small second Overwatch, the way forward had seemed so simple. She had escaped the bondage of loneliness, and now there was only to keep going, to increase that family around her, to grow in love, even to hope for that thing she had imagined might be lost to her for so long, something she hadn’t dared hope for. She loved her Overwatch family. She loved her wife. She loved for a child. Now she could see it all growing further away, a golden land that she, like Moses, would only ever see others enter.

Tears filled her eyes as she considered it, blurring the fork she set down on the table. The day was rainy and cold, even for the general London April, and it went all the way through her, darkening and covering any warm space she may have been able to find within herself.

It was a year of failures. The same ones, over and over again, of bodies as quarrelsome and betraying as the Israelites, of ground being lost and joy being further and further away. This was meant to be a day of celebration, of freedom, but it all felt so empty, the freedom of a stray dog without home or comfort.

There was a knock at the door, and Mercy stood up straight, adjusting her sweater and tucking her hair behind her ears. There was no reason to ruin the day for everyone else, even if she could not find the joy for herself. When one is happy, it is easier to serve God and your community, she had read, from some rabbi, somewhere, and she did not deny that this was true.

Why then, had God denied her so much?

“Ang!” There was a bright, high peal through the entryway as Tracer sat on the small chair next to the door, taking off her shoes slowly, “Sorry, took us a bit--”

“We’re on time, Lena.” Emily smiled as she hung up her jacket.

“Oh. Right then, me planning is as bang on as ever,” She laughed merrily, “Entirely didn’t assume I’d missed the mark, exacting as I am.”

“You’re early.” Mercy touched at the edge of the couch.

“Someone tell Fareeha, she’ll want to note this in the official Overwatch ‘istory.”

Emily took her shoes from her and set them in the rack. “She’ll only be telling you you’ve no excuse hereafter.”

Tracer shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Bloody fucked every which way, I am.”

Yes, Mercy’s mind answered, you are.

It’s clearly degenerative and aggressive, whatever got set off. The seizures will get harder to treat, and the tremor, not to mention we have about a whack-a-mole’s guess at what it’ll start going after next. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think it’ll affect her cognition, luckily. Or unluckily, I guess...

She heard Pradeep’s voice echoing in her mind, and did her best to shake it off. She hadn’t given up yet. Things weren’t so bad that they could give up yet. There was still a chance, however small, wasn’t there? Even if they could just arrest it, just stop it where it was--her eyes flickered to the brightly colored cane Tracer’s hand reached for, more commonly carried than not now--she could live out the rest of her life in relative happiness. She could see it, in her mind’s eye. That golden strip of promise just beyond the horizon.

But she hadn’t been able to touch it, no matter how many specialists she bullied into consulting with her. No matter how many papers she read. No matter how long she walked and how fervently she prayed.

“Ang?” she looked up, and realized that Tracer was now standing in front of her, a puzzled look on her face. “You alright, love?”

Mercy shook her head. “Of course, only I am lost in my mind. Tired, I think.”

Tracer looked at her for a moment in that sharp way she had, eyes flitting like a hummingbird across Mercy’s face, but she was saved by a knock at the door, and the further entrance of Dva and Winston, chatting amiably as Winston carefully sidled into the apartment, McCree a short but meaningful distance behind them.

There they were, an assembled party, still crossing the long desert, signs of promise beginning to pop up around them. Since the battle for London, the world had taken a different view of them, an altogether kinder one. Pharah had her office building, constructed where she had always hoped. McCree had gotten a pardon from Interpol itself. Tracer had been offered damehood, which she had rather aggressively rejected, and the Victoria Cross, which she had aggressively accepted. All of them where heroes worldwide, their work seen for the long journey it had been, and honored. Mercy should have every reason to be pleased.

Professionally, her life had never been better, or the way more clear.

“Angela,” her wife’s voice pulled her out of the thought, “the family, I think, is assembled.”

She said it with a half-smile as she looked over to the strange assembly that filled the room. Mercy nodded, and watched as Pharah walked over to the table she had built with her own hands, in the center of the living room. There was a bubbling sort of excitement among all of them, and why wouldn’t there be? It was the first Passover in Pharah and Mercy’s new apartment, the one built on the bones of the old. Life had been destroyed and life had been rebuilt into something more suited for them, something better. Renewal. Hope. Mercy could see it all, and reminded herself of it, as Pharah playfully bickered with Tracer before grabbing her by the armpits and thumping her to the floor, back up against the couch. The rest of them settled in their own spots, on the floor, looking over to Mercy from time to time.

A perfect Seder, with the people she loved, and yet her eyes wandered to the corner next to her seat, the one she hadn’t even realized she had left clear. There should have been something, someone, there this year. She had prayed for it, she had pleaded for it, she had given and fasted and hoped for it. And yet the corner stood empty. The promise was for other people.

”It’s not surprising given your advanced maternal age,” she said it gently, but Mercy still winced, “and...some of what you’ve been through.”

Mercy was not now, and had never been, ignorant of certain medical realities. Her entire life since she was a child, had been the understanding of such things, and the painful knowledge that very often what we wish was true directly contradicted what was on the chart. The doctor kept talking, and Pharah squeezed her hand.

Pharah. She’d offered to be the one to carry a child, despite it not being her immediate inclination. Mercy had never been able to find the words to tell her that she needed to be the one to do it. That she had lost her entire family all those years ago, and needed to be related to one other person on this earth, and to know that. Even she didn’t understand it completely, only knew that it had driven her onward. Only knew it kept her coming back to this office to be told that the best they could do was keep going.

The best she could do was ignore the chart.

She should have filled that corner with something other than her own empty hopes. She blinked back the bitter saltwater of her own affliction, and began to walk toward the table.

“Pesach is a story of the impossible,” she sat herself down next to Pharah, but just kept staring at the Seder plate in the middle of the table, “We were slaves. We could not be bringing forth our own freedom. Only God could do that, and there was no reason to believe he would be doing it at all. We had been in bondage for so long. There was no reason to believe God would be giving us the Torah. There was no reason...to believe that we would be here. No reason there should be any Jews left at all.”

Mercy wished one of them would stop her, that one of them would recognize the ramble for what it was was. Mercy barely understood it herself, and anger touched the edge of her mind as she considered all the things God had done but also all the things that he had chosen not to do. He had chosen to allow the Holocaust, and where had their deliverer been? He had allowed the Jews to be blamed and pilloried for the failings of AI technology, in both the fringes and, more quietly, in the larger community. He had allowed them to be shot while they worshipped, or bought groceries, or simply lived their lives. He had allowed Mercy to hear every suspicion and cruelty of the others in the labs and offices, who could not imagine the blonde, blue-eyed woman next to them could possibly take offense. And then, he had allowed Mercy’s house to be bombed, twice in her life, he had allowed her wife to be tortured, he had allowed Tracer to suffer, and he had allowed Mercy to remain childless.

“Why.”

The fifth question, left out of the Haggadah.

She looked around the table at them.

“Why did he save us? And then, sometimes, why did he not? I--” she shook her head, “am never understanding the reasons. Why. I am only always asking. Why.”

It was a why to God, for certain, for all the things she thought but good not bring herself to say, but a why to herself as well. Why had she stayed? Why did she pray every morning, why did she say Shema before she laid down at night? Mercy would have been the first to say that it wasn’t about God, but also she could not have answered what it was about at all. What did she find in her prayers and her study, knowing so keenly that God would not hear her, had not heard her cry for years?

Perhaps that was what drew the Jewish people together--knowing God will not listen, and saying the prayer anyhow. Knowing that to be a Jew was to live in danger, and to wander, but refusing to be anything else. To never stop asking, no matter how silent God became.

Even David, knowing God would punish him with the death of his child, had kept pleading, and fasting, and praying, to the very end. There had always been the chance God would turn back.

“We’re outmanned, outgunned, and those things can keep coming--”

“Didn’t say we was going to win did I?” Tracer’s eyes narrowed and her voice raised, pulling the attention of the room back to her. “Said we was going to fight.”

She looked out over the tightly assembled group packed into the room.

“Some of us will die today. Likely a good number of us. ‘E’s right you know. There’s no reason to believe we can take the advantage over them. Every reason to believe that London is going to be nothing but a pile of rubble and fires at the fag end of it all. But I,” She thrust her finger into her chest, “am not going to give over this city bloody quietly. It’s a part of me, innit? And we’re a part of it. Can’t untie the Oxtons and England, and I don’t mean the bloody Crown, and I don’t mean the bloody government, I mean England.”

Tracer paced across the top of the bar. “I am fighting for England, and for London, and what that is, is every kid running out the schoolyard, every pissed stumble ‘ome, every day of our lives, THAT is London. And England. We are London. We are England. Not anything or anyone official. Not Parliament. Not the fucking royals. You and me, and your dad, and mum, and this grotty little pub, and me footie team, and the greengrocer down the way, and Alfie’s flower stall, THAT is England, and I won’t let anyone, or anything, take this place I love, while I still draw a breath in this world. I won’t ever surrender. East End gets flattened, East End gets the worst of it, but we don’t roll over and give it up. We never ‘ave.”

She stopped for a moment, then nodded. “And I won’t start now. I can’t win, maybe. But I guarantee you, I can give them the worst day of their lives, and even if they stomp over these streets, they’ll remember my name. That’s what we’re fighting for. Not because we can win. Because we fight for what we are.

Mercy gave a weak chuckle and shook her head. “We are telling this story not to answer these questions, but to keep asking them. We are telling it, to give our own answers. God--” her voice caught, barely believing herself in that moment, “--God is revealing himself, in us, all the time. We, we are God’s hands, and God’s eyes, and...his words, when we remember. When we can be seeing the midrash in our lives.”

She took a deep breath.

“Tonight we remember that we are free. Tonight we remember the things that make us slaves.”

____

The smell of brisket filled the air. Pharah’s timing had become more and more impeccable over the years, throwing herself into the celebration of Passover, a love letter to her wife written with the greatest tenderness in pan sauce and flourless chocolate cake. Mercy had always, truthfully, questioned the wisdom of the most serious of plagues being recounted as they were on the edge of the feast. But perhaps that was the point of it. Perhaps it was about being kept waiting for your desires, your hopes. Perhaps it was about wondering if it would ever come.

“Aaron said to Pharoah, the worst would be coming. That God would take the firstborn of the Egyptians, but that the Hebrews would be spared, if they were marking their doors with the blood of a lamb…”

Sacrifice. Something always had to be sacrificed. A lamb. A child. A friend. Perhaps this had been her downfall, that she was unwilling to sacrifice anyone. She would never be Abraham, committing her dearest loves into harm. She wanted to save them all, and she had been punished for this disobedience, all those years ago when Overwatch fell. They had made something ugly of her love. Maybe God had seen her, and decided what the sacrifice would be for her.

Maybe God would take the firstborn, however Mercy felt about it.

It would be easy to blame God for that empty corner of her living room and her heart, for it was all within his power to give. But the things that happen to us are rarely laid at God’s feet alone, and Mercy imagined her own moments of frustration, of foolishness, and wondered, which one was it that had brought her to this moment? If she had wanted to have a child, why then had she spent so long pursuing her work, running through war zones and long nights in laboratories? She should have known there are some things which still have a time limit. She should have known there was no guarantee.

But if God had not wished it, why had he sent her Pharah? It was already to already believe her chance lost, but to show her that sliver of what might be, that green and verdant edge at the horizon of the desert, that was crueler still.

She understood why some of the Hebrews had returned to slavery. It was easier to never know what you were losing. What could be lost.

Tracer twisted against her back uncomfortably for a moment, but focused herself and shook her head. “I don’t understand why the first-born ‘ad to die, God being mostly angry at Pharoah.”

“It was no longer a warning.” Pharah took a sip of wine. “There had been nine warnings. It was a punishment.”

“‘Ardly seems fair to punish the lot of them for a bit of governmental wankery. Some ordinary Egyptian’s not keeping the ‘ebrews enslaved.”

“But I doubt they protested the murder of the Hebrew sons. It is a kind of blood for blood. That they had so many chances to avoid that is a mercy in itself, God would have been right to kill their children first off. Justice. ”

“No, isn’t justice. Revenge. Eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Fareeha. Think you’d be defending your countrymen a bit more.”

Pharah smiled and leaned toward Tracer. “Some of us are not compelled to excuse our country’s imperialism, and violence.”

Tracer leaned back against the couch. “Alright, fair cop and well ‘it, but I am still right about the firstborn, Fareeha.”

Her own Hilell and Shammai, ever arguing, ever debating, ever loving each other. She had watched that grow and bloom, too, over the work of years, step by step as they wandered together through an uncertain land. She had doubted, when she first fell in love with Pharah, that anything other than the glue that was Mercy would keep them together, but that had been arrogance. Tracer was more loveable than she seemed at first blush, and Pharah more loving than most would have imagined, and the two of them had grown together, though never in quite the same direction.

Tracer was right, of course, that there was something unjust in taking something so precious, for a casual sin. Pharah was right, of course, that the sins of the community must be borne by the community, too, and that there had been so many chances to turn back. Did God ever owe them an apology, for such rashness? Or worse, for such calculation? It was one thing to act in anger, it was another to take something so precious so calmly.

Perhaps the worst of it was that he was not angry at Mercy at all. Perhaps it was only that simple, calculated punishment that led her to this day, to the taste of saltwater and horseradish even more bitter on her lips than she had believed possible. It purged her mouth of the sweetness of the wine and the richness of the meat, leaving only that acrid dryness in its wake.

Perhaps the worst of it was how angry Mercy was with him.

The plagues passed. Freedom was had, for some, but even as the meal passed in front of her, Mercy kept thinking only of her own bondage, of the unanswered cry to God. She saw it in the empty corner beside her, the shake at Tracer’s hand as she drew the wine to her lips, in the way Pharah had carefully assigned the seating and set the table, in the way Winston avoided her gaze as they spoke of Yocheved’s baby, in the way Dva spoke to her so gently. The way Emily looked at her and Tracer both.

In this victory of a meal, Mercy tasted only the failures of this past year. Miriam’s Well kept them alive in the desert, but Mercy began to wonder if it hadn’t been the bitter alkaline of survival, and not the sweet cool of living.

The blessing over the wine buzzed from her lips without a thought, and the door opened. Next to her, sitting at that empty corner, was Elijah’s cup. The cup filled with the hope and promise that some year, everything she had been waiting for would come through that door. The cup was an outstretched hand to God in the darkness, whispering about trust. Every year, she had held out that hand. She held it out after her parents were killed. Held it out after Overwatch fell. Held it out as she was in exile from the medical community. She kept looking ahead in the dark, trusting what she could not see.

She believed.

To believe in Elijah. To believe that hope could always walk right through the door, that it could sit at your table and drink your glass of wine. To believe that there was a chance to see the dream fulfilled, to touch your feet on that Promised Land.

Next year, in Jerusalem.

It was too much to ask. It was too deep a failure, this year, marked by all of her insufficiencies, unable to have a child, unable to save Tracer, throwing herself at these same things again and again, the outcome never changing. She’d gotten no closer to getting pregnant. Tracer’s health continued to deteriorate.

Not even taking the moment to excuse herself, Mercy got up from the table and ran into the small, tight powder room, the one Pharah had barely managed to niggle into the plans. She pulled herself into the bright white of that room, and she cried, and she cursed, in every language she knew, that God had kept everything from her, that God was punishing her for nothing, that God had judged her for her failings and ignored his own. She was angry. She kept that anger close to her like a flame, even as the immense darkness of her own sorrow crept in. She forgot there even was a Seder, in the other room, saw only the burning, everlasting bush that was her that was God that was the anger and love of all her people, all those years.

There was a knock at the door, and Mercy wiped at her eyes. Pharah had been so tender and good, through all of this, and the last thing she needed was--

“It’s Emily.”

Mercy had not expected that, and for a moment, it disarmed her so thoroughly that she opened the door.

There was nothing exchanged, for a moment. Emily would say that she was no great mind, and no great judge, and no great hero, comparing herself unfavorably to the company Tracer generally kept. She would say this never seeing her own gift for knowing the kindest thing to say, for looking at the faces of people as she did her class of children and opening her own heart to them.

“It’s just this year, Angela.” Emily nodded. “I know.”

It was not a question, nor a complaint, nothing but an acknowledgment of the thing that had been Mercy’s own plague, sent by God, or, at the very least, not evaded by him. Mercy nodded, tears still streaming down her face.

“Do you know Moses died, never seeing the Promised land? He was going through...and a mistake, meant God would never let him see it. He was kept from the promise of God.”

“Promised Land. I suppose it would be easy for a place you never see to be perfect.” Emily leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t know much about the Torah, of course, but I remember the story hardly ending with happily ever after.”

Mercy shook her head. “They were….argumentative, and lost faith, and difficult.” she sniffled. “But they were not in the desert.”

“It’s hard, to be Moses, isn’t it Angela? You go among people who don’t understand you, you try to lead them in whatever way you can, and for all that, you feel you will never find home. God barely listens to you, but you stay all the same. I think you’re brave for it.”

“I’m not--”

“Aye, you are. The moral compass for as long as I’ve known them, and for longer than that, I know. Lena and Fareeha would say so, as well.” Emily sighed. “This year has been forty for all of us, but for you I know most of all. But,” Emily looked back over her shoulder and stared at Tracer, “It’ll end, won’t it? Even Moses stopped walking.” She turned back around and wiped the tears from her eyes. “The Promised Land is just another beginning. But I don’t know the Torah very well.”

Mercy looked up at her. “You are knowing it well enough.”

“I’m sorry, about the baby. Cried over that myself, me and Lena never being able.” She sighed. “I just keep walking. What else can we do?”

“I’m sorry I,” Mercy closed her eyes, “I am failing you both.”

Emily put her arm around Mercy’s shoulder. “No. You could never. You’re taking us on the journey.”

“I should go back, to the table. I am being--”

“We’ll keep going, aye. Eventually, we’ll find the end of it, whatever that is.”

Hand in hand with Emily, Mercy walked back to the table. She was no clearer or calmer on the subject of God, of what he was denying her, of what he was denying all of them. But she saw the faces of her fellow travellers more clearly. It was not only Moses who made the journey. It was not only Moses who felt lost along the way, and it was not only Moses who died reaching for that unattainable goal, who strived and hoped against everything.

They were together. She did not find the Promised Land, but she found their hands in hers.

She poured the final cup of wine. All things come to an end. Even the desert.

#HON HON HON #The third one is The Promised Land and will theoretically be done someday ahah

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Metanoia - Chapter Fourteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 5k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

If the career districts had their hands on books like these, you would have been forced to read them. Mercilessly. Like, a whole couple of units just studying these useless things. They’re mostly published for the Capitol citizens--which is why they’re not supplied in districts--but imagine having everything you could possibly need to know, in a couple of books.

These handbooks are genius. Even if they’re meant for entertainment and not practical use, they’re fucking fantastic.

Every nine years, one of these books comes out. Inside, they have every tribute that had gone in for those nine years--which comes out to be two hundred and sixteen tributes in total. They have the names, ages, weights, heights, eye and hair colors. Who their mentor, stylist, prep team and district representative was, and so much more.

For example, for the year you won, they start with the tributes and their information.

District One, Deimos Chambers. Black hair, brown eyes. He was seventeen, six-foot-one, with a weight of one hundred and seventy five. His mentor was Gloss, and as for the rest, it seems a little unimportant to you. However, his go-to weapon during training was always a sword, and he seemed to be very skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

Which all career tributes are skilled in, but whatever. You’re all taught to be proficient in something, and it’s mainly hand-to-hand. You’ll hardly see a career tribute try and do shit from far away. You know you wouldn’t bother all that much. From far away, you risk the chances of missing, up close, you can kill them in one goddamn shot.

Deimos’ score was a whopping ten, which is basically what all the comprehensive people had gotten. In his interview he wore all black, and when the lights had been shut off momentarily, the glow in the dark constellations came to life. And it wasn’t that bullshit green color either. It was white, and looked like there were actual lightbulbs behind it all, but the stylist was just creative.

It lists the people he chose to be allies with: Alhena, Zeke, and yourself. How many he killed during the bloodbath, which was one. But in total from start to finish it was three to four, counting assist kills. It says how he died, how many days he survived for, and what he placed.

Next is Alhena Hurley. Brown hair, blue eyes. She was sixteen, five-foot-seven, weighing in at one hundred and thirty five. Her mentor was Cashmere, respectively. Her chosen weapon inside of the training center was a mace, and her special note was that she was strong.

“Not emotionally.” you mutter, snickering to yourself as you continue reading.

Alhena got a score of nine, her interview dress was silver, with black specks on it--which is more or less the opposite of what Deimos had. She killed two people in the bloodbath, and that would stay her number for the rest of the games. She died because she got killed on the third day by someone who was hiding in the trees.

On the District One page, it holds both Deimos and Alhena. Pictures of what they wore during the reaping, train station, parade, interview and inside of the arena. Along with their special picture that would indicate that they were dead. The next page holds their family and friend interviews--if they had any--with the questions that Caesar asked and the answers given by their loved ones.

Then, there’s District Two, starting off strong with Zeke. Blonde hair, brown eyes. Seventeen, six foot on the dot, weighing roughly one hundred and sixty pounds. You guys had the same mentor, so it was Enobaria. He was boring and chose a sword, and his special skill was that he was always moving. More or less, he was quick.

Training score of ten, his suit was a bronze color, while the dress shirt was actually black. It was sorta metallic in the light. Zeke managed to kill one person in the bloodbath, and came out to two to three at the end. And he obviously placed second, because you were the one that killed him so that you could win.

And then there’s yourself. (Y/n) Rosecelli, sixteen. You had fairly short hair when you went inside of the arena--just so that it wouldn’t be grabbed and used against you. You were pretty tall, around the recommended weight group--although, that didn’t really matter in the end--and your mentor was Enobaria. Your chosen weapon inside of the training center was the sai’s and your special talent was being a know-it-all.

You scored a ten, got the same metallic bronze color of a dress with the matching black. Inside of the arena you had killed eight people, placing number one. At the very top of the page it says ‘WINNER!’, like it’s some fucked up game and not a fight for your survival.

It had the pictures and interviews as the others did, but with yours it’s extra special. You get the second interview by Caesar and what outfit you had worn for it. A small section for all the highlights inside of the arena, and then the victory tour, with the celebration at the mansion. All the headlines that you had gotten for being inside of the Capitol ‘willingly’.

And there’s also close-up pictures of all the tattoos you had gotten while you were there too.

It makes you sick knowing that they had produced these for entertainment, when it really could have been for the betterment of future tributes. Apart from all the useless shit they had for profiling the tributes, they literally had their battle plans.

Like for Finnick, it says that he used a fishing net while he and the opponent were in water. He’d get them tangled, and then when he was sure they couldn’t hurt him, he’d just kill them with his super expensive trident. And all the tributes didn’t know to be afraid of him until it was too late.

Just like with Johanna too. She played stupid for her entire time inside of the Capitol, and a little bit into the games to draw people in. She purposely scored low on her private training session--which is no doubt a big setback sponsor-wise. But then she became a killing machine, and almost a legend of sorts.

It made tributes wary of those who pretended to be stupid like that. Gave away their entire motive, because Johanna had done it first, and she won because of it. Anyone who did pose a threat early on would get killed.

It’s the exact reason why you went after the District Four tributes when you did. Your games were directly after Finnick’s, and the thought of one of those fish-eating fuckers getting their hands on you like that was terrifying. So, the only way to eliminate the chance of that happening, is to get rid of the only people who really know their way around water, and nets, and fishing.

Finnick likely hated that, the fact that you went after them specifically when you had the chance. However, you know deep-down that he appreciated that you wouldn’t let them suffer. You just wanted them dead immediately to get rid of the chance of them still being alive. You wouldn’t move from the bodies until the cannons had gone off.

Honestly, your allies should have killed you when they had the chance. If you were smart enough to stand over tributes to make sure that they were dead before moving on, that should have been a red flag. Even when they had wanted to leave tributes to bleed out and die, you’d be the one to finish them off.

Not to mention, you marking your arm after every broadcast of The Fallen was a whole new level of insane. And it’s not like they didn’t notice it or anything, they just chose not to point it out. They knew what it was for and all, but they didn’t say anything.

Someone clears their throat, making you look up from the handbook. You’re not really surprised to see Finnick standing there, in the same white scrubs that you’re wearing.

“Good afternoon.” you flip the page, landing right onto the District Four tributes from your games, “Or evening, I can’t tell in this coffin anymore.”

“The nurses tell me you haven’t left your room in a couple of days.” he doesn’t move from the doorway.

You give him a glance, “Why would I? Peeing in my own bathroom is just the same as the one down the hall. Both have cold toilet seats and smell like cleaning products.”

Finnick cracks a smile, coming into the room now, “What’re you reading?”

“Hunger games handbooks.” you hold it up for him to see briefly, “This is the year I won, and these are the tributes you mentored.”

Finnick comes over, and you turn the book so he can read it a little.

Brook Giles, fifteen, five-foot-eight, around one hundred and fifty six pounds. He has bleached brown hair and blue eyes. His training score was a nine, he wore a classic light blue and white suit during his interviews. His go-to weapon was a sword inside of the training center and he died on the first day because you killed him.

“One of my first takeouts,” you watch his face, wondering if he’ll get mad if you talk about it so carelessly, “It was almost fun.”

Finnick meets your eyes, “You were scared, just like the rest of them.”

“I killed him because he reminded me of you.” you then turn to the girl, “And so did she.”

Mira Osborne, sixteen, blonde hair and green eyes. Five-foot-five, one hundred and forty pounds. She wore a white dress that barely went to her knees, some blue accents here and there. She scored an eight, her go-to weapon was a spear. One kill, and only a few days later she’d die because you’d find her hiding in a cove.

“I was fifteen when I watched you win, and I knew that the following year I’d likely be picked to volunteer. I realized that I didn’t know how to swim at all, and the thought of ending up in a net, scared and drowning was more terrifying than anything I had come across up until that point of my life.” you smile, looking at Finnick now, “So, I dug a hole in my backyard, filled it with water and taught myself how to swim.”

Finnick stares, as if he doesn’t know if you’re kidding or not.

You aren’t.

“Of course, as extra precaution I chose to go after them first. Anyone who got in the way was an added bonus to my kill streak. I hunted Mira like she was a fucking deer and I was starving.” Finnick’s silence is what you expected for telling him information like this, and you’re not even done yet, “And had you not been my soulmate, you, Mags, Katniss, Peeta and Johanna would have ended up just like her.

“And I wouldn’t have stopped until you were all dead.”

Finnick straightens up, stiff. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but snaps his mouth shut.

Smug, you smirk, “What? Did you suddenly realize that I’m exactly who I told you I was?”

Finnick turns to leave, and you wait patiently as he goes towards the door frame. But then he grabs the chair by it, and takes a seat. Although, just by looking at his body language, he doesn’t want to be here. And he doesn’t want to let you win this either.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you flip the book open again, “You’re making a grave mistake.”

“Stop telling me that.”

You glance up, “Is it because you know that I’m right and you don’t want to admit it? You know you’re leaving a nice, capable girl that would love to settle down, have kids and grow old with you. For someone who’s an insufferable bitch that hates the life she’s been given, and everything that she’s ever cared for gets killed or leaves her.”

“Is that why you won’t let me at least be friends with you?”

You take in a deep breath, “No, I don’t want you near me at all because you’re you. You’re Finnick Odair, darling of the Capitol. You’re Finnick Odair, the youngest victor in history who was also given the most expensive gift ever sent inside of the arena.” you laugh, “Oh! And you’re Finnick Odair, the man who also exposed Snow for who he is. Which lets you be in the spotlight more times that you’re worthy of.”

“So you think you’re not worthy?”

It’s like a blinding rage for a split second as you hurl the twenty-five pound book straight at Finnick, “I can’t fucking stand you!”

Finnick catches the book just barely before it hits him in the face, “(Y/n)--”

“No.” you cut him off, “No, you don’t get to pretend like you’re the voice of reason here, because you’re not. I’m a fucking nightmare, and even I know when enough is enough.” You get up and off of the bed, grabbing a hold of the necklace Tanith gifted you. As you begin to leave your safe place, you point at him, “I know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“You hopped from what you think is one broken girl to another. But news flash, Finnick, I’ve lost much more people,” you get down to his eye level, “I lost my entire family when I got home to District Two after I won my games. And it wasn’t just my immediate family, it was distant aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Everyone who was even a shred related to me, is now dead. I’m the only one left of my fucking bloodline.”

You stand up now, “Losing Tanith is nothing compared to what I had lost then. I wish I had grown a pair and stepped off the fucking hovercraft to bury her, because doing that wouldn’t have been nearly as much as a hassle compared to dealing with you.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, and you don’t wait to see if he does either. You go straight out, ignoring the nurses that stare at you, because it really is the first time you’ve left the room in days. Everything is delivered to you, if there’s something you want, they’ll go and get it.

You have a vague idea of where you want to go, just getting there is going to be the problem. Typically, even if you do leave the room, someone will follow you out to keep an eye on you. You remember very vividly, a certain nurse standing at an arm's distance from you, during Coin’s last speech. When she announced the liberation of the prisoned victors.

A joke. This whole place is one fucking circus.

Just as you expected, the floor is pretty vacant. Here and there, someone will wander in and out, but that’s really it. You give a look behind you, confirming that there isn’t a nurse following you just yet. Then, you take off towards the elevator.

You barely remember how that one doctor used it, but it shouldn’t be that hard. You press the button, bringing the lift to you. When it stops and makes the annoying sound, you pull the guard rail up, and then step inside. Pulling it down again, you can see one of the nurses round the corner.

You give her a bright smile, punching the top floor, “Tata.”

The elevator starts moving up, and you give her a wave. Then, she’s blocked out by the cement flooring.

For the rest of the ride up, you cross your arms and wait, staring straight ahead. Your game plan is to head to the woods and don’t stop walking until you’re lost. Hopefully, no one will think to follow you out there.

The elevator stops at the top floor, allowing you to be met face to face with a band of people. They’re pulling up the guard rail before you even have a chance to reach for it.

Katniss is on a stretcher, her sister is hovering over her. Haymitch, Beetee, Gale and Boggs are nearby. Not to mention all the other people behind them.

“Geez.” you move out of the way, allowing Katniss to be wheeled in. Beetee and Gale fit themselves on, but Boggs and Haymitch don’t follow.

There’s not nearly enough room for them all to fit on the elevator, anyway. And apparently it gives Boggs to grab a hold of you before you can escape.

“Where are you going?”

You give him a kind smile, “I was given the okay to clear my head for a little.”

“Why are you still in scrubs, then?”

You make a face, shrugging, “Don’t ask me, they’re the ones that told me I was free to go whenever.”

Boggs doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, neither does Haymitch.

“Fine, I made a breakaway because I can’t fucking stand it in there.” you pull your arm from Bogg’s grasp, “For a district that’s all about equality, I don’t see why it should matter if I come up here to disappear for a little while. Or the fact that I’m being followed around when I do leave my room because you guys think I’m some sort of Capitol bootlicker.”

Haymitch laughs, “Same old (Y/n).”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” you then look at Boggs, “Don’t send anyone to follow me. I’ll come back when I feel like I’m ready to breathe stale air and eat shit for dinner.”

“Had you expressed your distaste for District Thirteen earlier, we might have taken you right back to District Two.” Boggs says.

You raise your eyebrows, “Earlier? When did you go?”

“A couple hours ago.” Haymitch says, “We just got back.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Great, my only way out of this shithole and I wasn’t even aware of it. It’s funny how you brought the guy in the wheelchair and not the girl who literally grew up there her entire life.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Bogg says, “Enjoy your walk.”

The elevator is back, and they step on. You turn around and leave, heading straight towards the opening. You can already hear the chirps of the birds and you’re nowhere near the door.

You pick up the pace, jogging right past the people that work out here. One of them waves, and you raise your hand in acknowledgement. The smile doesn’t even come across your face until the sun is in your eyes.

You take a sharp left, taking the trail for the most part. When you’re out of the sight of those inside of the building, you slow your pace, taking your time with getting lost.

You’re not even kidding when you say that it’s literal fresh air. This smells and tastes nothing like what goes underground. It’s stale, and out here it’s sweet. It must have rained a couple days ago or something because the plants have that smell to them--petrichor.

After a while, you detour from the trail, heading into the trees some more. You weren’t kidding when you said that you’d like to get lost. Being out here, wandering for hours on end is going to be more entertaining than reading those depressing handbooks. On top of that, you won’t have to see Finnick’s face for a while.

He really does get on your nerves. Him pretending that he knows every single detail about you, and claiming the opposite of what you tell him is pissing you off. You’re a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You’d rather be told the heartbreaking truth than have someone lie through their teeth. So, you assume other people like it that way too. It cuts out a lot of unnecessary drama.

Unless it’s another person’s lie, then you’ll play along. If they want to fabricate things for their own gain, then have at it. Who are you to say no to them?

With Finnick, you’ve told him several times, over and over that you can’t stand him. And he acts as if that’s all going to magically change if he forces you to get used to his company or whatever. And you even dumbed it down for him, explained what the deal was. You don’t want him, you don’t need him. You want or need the help.

He doesn’t need to stick around after that wish has been fulfilled. All he’s doing is hurting his own feelings.

At this point, it might just be the challenge of getting you to like him. Show some kind of friendship just so he can drop it. You wonder if you fake it, he’ll finally leave you alone. You might just have to try that out until he realizes that you’ve had an entire personality flip.

Finnick would probably see that it’s a facade but might go along with it just to see how long you can keep it up for.

It’ll be your own personal game. How long can you be nice on the outside and calm on the inside until Finnick does something completely absurd that it makes you flip your shit? The time starts now.

You take a deep breath, going down the hill carefully, because you can clearly see the river. Off to the left some more are shoeprints and the trail that you had supposedly detached yourself from. It doesn’t really matter anymore, as long as you can sit here and be by yourself, you’re fine.

You get as close to the water as possible, taking off the shoes and rolling up the scrubs. You let your legs sit in the water as you lean back on your hands, staring at the scenery. It truly is a beautiful place here, but you’d never want to stay. Even if District Two is in shambles, you want to go back.

It’s your home. It holds so much grief and terror, and yet you just want to be back in the comforts of your own town. You want to see all your old neighbors before your victory. And see Victor’s Village overflowing with people always, no matter how annoying they were.

They’re all dead now. The only surviving victors from District Two is Lyme, and yourself. Everyone else is dead. Enobaria, Neysa, Tanith, Sorcha, Brutus, Edmond, Zavian and everyone else. Lyme had filled you in, that Snow had them all killed, and anyone else who proved valuable went with him.

Lyme and Paylor are lucky to be alive.

You’d literally give anything to talk to one of them again. To relive Tanith showing up uninvited in your house the morning of the reaping. You would have been so much more gentle than usual if you had known that it would have been the last real conversation without gloom hanging over your heads.

At least you’re lucky to say that your final goodbyes to her and Zavian wasn’t terrible at all. You were able to hug them both and tell them just how much they meant to you. Even if it wasn’t really heartfelt for Zavian, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world he could have heard.

And now they’re gone, and you’re still alive.

“Lucky me.” you murmur, finding a rock and tossing it into the water.

It’s funny how you only feel bad after all those people are dead. You would never in your right mind would have ever thought of being kind to those people until now. You’ve got some genuine guilt on your hands.

Edmond and Neysa really had tried to act in your best interest. They knew your limits, but you like to think that you can push it. Like Edmond making sure you’d be sober and not make a fool of yourself in front of all those people at the train station. He wasn’t doing it to restrict you. And even though he didn’t show it the best way, you could have at least tried to understand.

Neysa just wanted you to get good allies. She wanted to give you a fighting chance, and had you just followed what she wanted, you wouldn’t have been so waist-deep in shit with distrust from Finnick’s alliance. She knew something you didn’t when it came to the fact that you shouldn’t go off alone inside of the arena.

And yet you like to be independent.

There’s a crunching of leaves beneath boots, making you dip your head for a moment. You sigh through your nose, raise your head and then look over your shoulder. It’s exactly who you thought it would be, but he’s not wearing those white scrubs anymore. He’s also got some clothes draped over his arm.

You squint at him, “Are you wearing a suit?”

“Not the reaction I was expecting.” Finnick’s got his signature smile on his face, showing off his dimples.

You turn away before you can say something mean.

“I figured you’d rather run away in something much more fashionable.” Finnick stops behind you.

“How’d you know?”

You stare at the water for another moment, before pushing yourself up, brushing off the dirt from your butt, knowing full well that it’s still going to be there. In Finnick’s hands sit some familiar ripped black jeans, but a navy blue shirt.

“I see they have a pattern.” you hold up the shirt to see, “And it has a breast pocket too.”

“The pink shirt was thrown away since you destroyed the hem.”

“I was anxious.” you reason, placing the shirt back.

You take off the white scrub shirt, making Finnick turn his head away. A smile appears on your face, because he acts like he literally hasn’t seen you naked before--cough cough, after you got bit by spiders. Butt ass naked, it wasn’t just Finnick who saw you completely nude. You flashed the whole fucking country.

They probably couldn’t keep that in, and had to change the camera perspective after that.

You pull on the shirt, and then you pull off the bottoms, being sure to wipe your muddy feet on them to clean off your feet.

“So what made you follow me out here this time?” you ask, taking the jeans and pulling them on.

“Your stunning personality, as always.” Finnick looks over now, “And the fact that Haymitch and Boggs wanted me to follow you out here. I tried to tell them it wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had me do it anyway, gave you a thirty minute head start first, though.”

“Smart of them. I’m assuming you saw Katniss, then?”

“Seems like she’s been taking hit after hit lately.”

“Imagine getting strangled by your fiance.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in.

“Imagine getting punched by your soulmate.” Finnick gives you a look.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you have to admit that you deserved it.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

You press your lips together, stomping your foot into the boots since you’re too lazy to untie them. You repeat the process with your left foot, which takes a lot longer. Finnick just laughs at you the entire time, since you refuse to go down and fix it yourself.

“Let’s get serious for a moment.” you look at Finnick, and he looks a little afraid, “It’s nothing bad, you might even think I’m lying for a second.”

“That’s not--why would you say that?” he laughs.

You take your dirty scrubs from his hands, “Because I think ahead.” you tap the side of your head, “Anyway, I honestly want to apologize for what I said earlier.”

Finnick’s eyebrows skyrocket, and you can’t help but to laugh, “You’re being serious?”

“I am.” you start towards the trail, “And I would also like to apologize for everything that I’ve said before that. And all my actions too, like if I punched you or threw something at you.”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Finnick asks, “I mean, I accept but you gotta tell me why.”

You look at him, “I was thinking before you came out here--obviously--that people aren’t really out to get me. I don’t have to be independent and fight by myself anymore, not when there’s people with the same… struggles. You get it, right?”

Finnick’s impressed, “I do.”

“You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I like to think.”

It takes Finnick a moment before it clicks in his head. He’s the one that said it to you.

“A genius, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

He nods, “Well, if we’re apologizing for things--”

“We’re cool, you don’t have to.”

Finnick ignores you, “--I’m sorry for approaching you so strongly.”

“You thought that it was the only way to get through to me, I get it. If someone has their walls up, sometimes the only way to get them down is if you meet their energy.”

“Do I even know you?” Finnick laughs.

“Oh, the glory of having an epiphany.” you smile, giving him a look, “So what are we dressed up for?”

“Your newfound freedom.”

“The fuck?” you laugh.

“Haymitch and Boggs convinced Coin to get you a little more freedom, which means that they weaseled me in too. We get a dorm, get to eat with the others and we can come up here whenever we want.”

“I have a feeling this is a little bit of bullshit.”

Finnick chuckles, “How did you know?”

“You can’t deceive me, I see through most of the shit you and your buddies do. I pay attention. I knew you, Johanna and the others were in an alliance before it was formed. And I also knew that you were planning a rebellion, and all you asked is if I was a loyalist.” you get back to walking, “You could even say that I’m a little insightful.”

“I’ll give you that one.” Finnick agrees, “Also, before we go back inside, you should know something else.”

“What did you do this time?” you look at Finnick.

He’s stopped walking, and so you do too, “I’ve ended things with Annie completely.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fourteen

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nikibogwater · 3 years

Text

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter 3 (Author’s Commentary)

(Read the fic here)

General Notes:

The final chapter! I don’t have too many general notes for this one (though the passage-specific notes below the cut stretch on for miles--there was just a lot going on in this chapter lol). But I will say that this is my favorite chapter of the three. It’s what the previous two have been building up to, and it really is the “heart” of the story, so to speak. That, and I finally got to make Glitter Wings Nari canon to The Immortal Bonds! (picture below the cut) I genuinely teared up a little bit while writing a couple of these scenes. I don’t know if that means they are very good, or that I was just absolutely exhausted after cranking out the first two chapters, but maybe you can be the judge. Friendly reminder to go listen to the song “Protector” by City Wolf if you are so inclined. It was a huge part of what inspired this story, and now that all three parts are published, I feel like it perfectly captures the theme and feel of A Shot in the Dark as a whole.

Passage-Specific Notes:

“...Please, Nari, I would not be doing my duty as Douxie’s...as your friend if I let you run thoughtlessly into this kind of danger.”

Another small line of dialogue that means a lot to me. I didn’t see Archie as making the instant connection with Nari that Douxie did. I think it took him a while to see her as anything more than “Douxie’s Ward.” He was always kind to her and took care of her, but I think it took him until now to realize that he had grown to really love her as part of the family. So the fact that he corrects himself here reflects that realization. I think under normal circumstances, the moment Archie finds out Douxie is in trouble/hurting, he would dive headfirst into hell without a second thought in order to help his boy. But because Nari is now also under his protection--and more importantly, now that she also has a special place in his heart--Archie has to force himself to slow down and come up with a plan that will keep BOTH of his kids safe.

The phone rang once--twice--six times. Then it went to voicemail.

Nari lowered it with a look of pure dejection as Claire’s pre-recorded voice cheerfully told them to leave their message after the beep.

I felt like calling Claire for backup was the most sensible thing they could do in this situation--but I also needed Nari and Archie to take on Project Rescue Douxie by themselves, in order to reinforce the family bond these three have. The moment when they all reunite at the end wouldn’t have had the emotional impact I was angling for if there had been others present. So I had to pull a tiny plot contrivance and make Claire unavailable. I didn’t feel the need to explain why she doesn’t answer her phone (people miss calls all the time) but my personal theory was that she was taking a nice relaxing shower and couldn’t pick up the phone. (look, I need SOMEBODY in this story to be having a nice time lol).

“By Ambrosia’s Gleam...” Archie breathed. A pair of dazzlingly beautiful wings reflected every light of the city back at him as Nari folded and unfolded them experimentally. They were unlike anything the cat had ever seen in his long life, vibrantly colored with rich shades of green and gold, glittering like morning dew, yet delicate as a newly budding flower.

Anybody remember last week, when I said the Most Self-Indulgent part was yet to come? This was it lol. I don’t remember when I started imagining Nari with sparkly butterfly wings, but back in early October, I drew this:

and I have been absolutely enamored with the idea ever since (but also it was a convenient way to get them to the warehouse without having to go through the ordeal of walking/taking a taxi/busting out the flying boat). So yeah. Nari’s Glitter Wings are canon to The Immortal Bonds series now. I have spoken.

He had no idea how long he had been enduring Rivan’s torture. It may have only been a few minutes, or it may have been a few years. Hell, he was getting to the point where it felt like this excruciating ache in his bones had been there his whole life. He tried not to sob as Rivan slowly pulled his magic back to himself, the agony abating for just a short moment of sweet relief. Douxie sucked in gulps of air, desperate to replenish the oxygen that had been ripped from his lungs by his own screaming.

First time really writing whump, so that was...something (I was exhausted after just the one paragraph lol). I tried to keep it as vague as I could because I don’t want anybody coming to my fic expressly for a graphic torture scene and nothing else (I don’t do the hurt-no-comfort thing, and I don’t want anybody to use my fics as such). But putting Douxie through a bit of hell does make the ending SO much sweeter. And if he hadn’t been experiencing pain, Archie and Nari probably would have taken longer to decide to come to his rescue. But there is still a part of me that detests every letter of that paragraph.

The small dragon let out a roar of fury and leapt at Rivan, his form twisting and expanding into that of an enormous black panther. The two crashed together in a flurry of red sparks and tearing claws.

Archie turning into a black panther and going to town on Rivan is also a bit of self-indulgence. I just really love big cats, and black panthers especially are beautiful, mysterious, and powerful creatures that just SCREAM Magic and Otherworldliness to me. (also I really want to draw Panther!Archie now).

He slammed against the concrete with a yowl of pain that tore Douxie’s heart into a thousand pieces, and dropped to the floor, where he lay quivering and heaving.

That line right up there 👆 is the most heart-wrenchingly painful thing I have ever forced myself to write. 😥

Nari grabbed Douxie by the shoulders and pulled him upright. One of her hands reached around him and pressed against his heart, and he felt her aura slam into his. Instinctively, his soul opened, and he let her magic pour into him, filling his veins with the warmth of a hundred suns, wrapping around and tangling with his own magic so tightly that he could barely tell whose was whose. Nari’s voice filled his head, drowning out every sound in his ears, every thought in his mind. My magic is yours. Use it. He threw both of his hands out and felt power unlike anything he had ever known surge into his palms and explode out of his fingertips.

So this ties into a headcanon of mine that, while Nari’s magic isn’t well-suited to direct combat, she is able to augment Douxie’s powers. But this scene is also probably the culmination of every relationship-building moment I have ever written for these two. I established in A Moment to Breathe that to let someone interact with your aura in this way--to basically channel their magic directly into you--requires a great deal of trust. Douxie let Nari heal him in that story, but that was after she had asked permission to pour her magic into him. Here, she doesn’t have time to ask--she just has to go for it, and Douxie’s trust and familiarity with her is so intense at this point, that his response is to immediately surrender completely to her power. Not only that, he is so familiar with her magic, that he is able to use it himself--he combines it with his own power and casts a spell that Nari is likely unable to use herself. I intended this moment to be a representation of the way family relationships can shape and empower you. You carry elements of the people you love with you wherever you go; their influence, their stories, their love for you--it all helps shape you into the person you are. And these things are often so deeply intertwined with your own personality, that it becomes impossible to fully separate them.

They had risked everything--the fate of the world, even--to save him. He should have scolded them. But instead, Douxie suddenly found himself overwhelmed with the ridiculous urge to cry.

This was the reason I wrote Douxie in Distress--and also one of the reasons I wrote A Shot in the Dark at all. I wanted him to experience being stripped of everything that made him powerful--useful-- and then witness his family risking literally everything for him. Not for his powers, not for what he can do for them, but because they love him. This poor, sweet boy gives and gives and gives, and the world has done nothing but take from him, and I have said “ENOUGH.” I wanted the serotonin of seeing him realize that he is valued and cherished for himself, and BY THUNDER I WAS GOING TO GET IT EVEN IF I HAD TO WRITE 9000+ WORDS FOR IT.

She pulled back a moment later, roughly drying her face on her sleeve, and untied the black hoodie around her waist. She draped it around Douxie’s shoulders with her magic, and he sighed contentedly as the warm fabric settled around him. He slipped his arms into the sleeves and closed the garment around himself gratefully, giving Nari a tired, heartfelt smile.

I didn’t realize it when I initially drafted the story, but Douxie’s hoodie is actually a really nice visual representation of how he and Nari pass the role of caretaker/protector back and forth. Douxie is wearing it for the first half of the story, when he is acting as Nari’s guardian/brother. Shortly after he lends it to her though, he’s captured by Rivan, and Nari takes on the role of protector in turn. But yeah, originally it was just “Them trading the hoodie back and forth is pointlessly cute and I wanna do it.” (Poor Archie has to be the Adult 100% of the time. He doesn’t get a break).

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. But that Sunday morning began with a deliciously warm silence. Douxie’s eyes blinked open slowly, finding sunlight lazily shining through the windows. He was lying on his side, with Archie’s soft, familiar body tucked against his chest. A gentle warmth against his back told Douxie that Nari was curled up beside him, wrapped in her own little cocoon of blankets, her back against his. The ache in his bones was gone. He was nestled safely in the warmth and love of his small family, the world outside and all that occurred within it nothing more than a distant echo.

Wrapping his arms around Archie and pressing his back more firmly against Nari’s, Douxie closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

This final scene wasn’t actually in my original outline--originally, the story ended with the three of them beginning the long trek home together. But I felt that the story needed just a little extra time to savor in the happy ending. And so, it came full circle--ending just like it began, with the dawning of a new morning. I noticed that I spend a lot of time in this story comparing the mornings of different characters/days. I think that might have been a subconscious expression of my belief that every morning is the beginning of a new opportunity--to strengthen bonds, to do good in the world, to just live for another day. Douxie’s Saturday morning started off a little rougher than he wanted--he woke up early and had to rush around to get ready for a long day out on the town. And wouldn’t you know it, his Saturday ended pretty badly too (though I think he’s probably just grateful he got to go home in one piece haha). This Sunday morning plays out in the exact opposite way. It’s quiet, peaceful, unhurried, and full of hope. Douxie’s been through hell and back, but he survived long enough to see another beginning. And I think that’s the beautiful cycle that all human life follows. There’s pain in life, darkness and hopelessness, but if you can hold on, strengthened by the love of the people you hold dear, you will always find a new beginning waiting for you on the other side of the valley.

...And that’s it. Thank you to everyone for reading my work. Seeing everyone who enjoyed it, hearing from you guys in the comments, knowing that I was able to give someone a good story--it really does mean the world to me. So again, thanks for joining me, and I hope our paths cross again soon. 🤗✨

#fanfiction #author's commentary #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat #a shot in the dark #thanks for reading <3

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lilytakeharryandgo · 4 years

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STOP ROMANTICISING SEVERUS SNAPE - A MANIFESTO

“Albus Severus Potter, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a great strategist, the other one was a racist, hateful, bitter, scary bastard. Voldemort must have damaged some brain cells when killing the Horcrux inside of me.”

Now that I have Snape fans raging and screaming for blood, here’s my show of evidence:

If the boring, same argument brought up by Marauders stans is Snape being a Death Eater, I know it’s basic, but it’s basic for a reason: it’s true. Supporting Voldemort doesn’t mean you support his ideas? I’m sorry, what did he support? The Dark Lord’s contouring skills? It is a truth universally acknowledged that joining a group of racists and following them in perpetrating crimes does make you a racist and a criminal.

JK Rowling herself said that Death Eaters are an analogy to Nazis, Marauders stans are not making this up. Are you questioning what JK ROWLING said? Because you know, she is JK ROWLING.

We know it was Snivellus that created the Levicorpus. He must have used it against the Marauders in order for them to learn it. And let’s just remember that “Snape’s worst memory” takes place after the Shrieking Shack’s incident, when dear, lovely Severus tried to unmask Remus so that he could be expelled for being a Werewolf. He went down to the Whomping Willow of his own free will, no one forced him, and he supposedly knew what was happening there: he risked his own life only to get Remus expelled. Yes, it was Sirius who thought it would have been funny to lure him to the Shrieking Shack where Lupin was due for his transformation, and that was wrong. However, why did he do that? Because Snape was constantly spying on them. Was it wrong? Definitely, no one is trying to get Sirius out of this one. Still, James saved Snape in time. Did James do that just because he wanted to protect Remus? Most likely: James gave them all a family and he loved his friends and would have done everything for them, and he did. But also, he wouldn’t have let an “innocent” (if we want to call him that) die. So James saved Snape’s life, which dear Half Blood Price seemed deeply ungrateful for later, and yet, Snape constantly tried to get the Marauders expelled from Hogwarts time and time again while using Dark Magic and creating his own dark spells (see the irony?). Stop saying that the Marauders’ actions pushed him to become a Death Eater. As if “Snape never missed an opportunity to curse James” was a lie. As if Snape wasn’t on his way to being a buddying Death Eater by his 5th year. As if Snape hadn’t came up with a curse that slices your body open by his 6th year. As if the Marauders had nothing to do but ruthlessly bully Snape all day and all night, when they actually are described as the brightest as some of the brightest students of their year despite being engaged in loads of other things like the creation of the Marauders Map, becoming Animagus, dealing with Remus’ monthly transformations (because those demonic guys didn’t leave him alone and didn’t report him to get him expelled as someone else was willing to do), James and Remus being responsible enough to be Head Boy and Prefect. Oh, and training for a war and joining the Order once they graduated. Minor things, right? Things they were busy doing in their personal lives such as surviving, living and being happy? Nah, that never happened, their entire life consisted of bullying innocent, poor service teenagers, that was their goal. Snape experienced one side of the Marauders (and we read that from his own pov, so it’s a little biased too): that is not a deciding factor of whether or not they (and especially James) are good people. He was so fascinated with the Dark Arts, even after Lily’s death and hence his presumed redemption, that Dumbledore did not appoint him as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Snape’s apologetics make it sound like the Marauders made Snape’s life hell every minute of everyday and he was the poor victim who was not capable of standing up to himself against those horrible demonic creatures, but he was the one inventing the Sectumsempra and using it against James, against George. Only a truly tormented person could have invented such a bloody spell.

So now let’s talk about Remus. Remus, a hero who fought against Voldemort and joined an anti-terrorist resistance organisation when he was just 18 years old, who fought alongside Frank and Alice Longbottom in the Order, is about to start his first class with the third years. Neville is there, of course, Remus knows his parents’ fate, how they were tortured into madness, and probably guessed that Neville’s biggest fear would be similar to what he guessed Harry’s would be. He’s probably planning on stepping in before Bellatrix Lestrange shows up, but then it’s not her, it’s Snape. Snape who insults him in front of his class, Snape who tries to shame him. Can you imagine how he must have felt? Yes, they bullied him, but his best friend James grew up, and what did he get in return? Death. Instead, Snape hasn’t gotten over himself a little and most importantly he does not realise that being a teacher also means being responsible for those children. Snape never changes: he is the same petty, angry, bitter child that he had been in school, except now he’s bullying children half his age instead of yelling racial slurs at his classmates. While Snape is one of his students’ greatest fear, Remus starts off the year by letting his pupils confront their biggest fears. Remus truly, deeply cared about his students, and wait… what did Snape do? He got him fired! But even most achingly than that, just imagine… it’s 1993, Remus is coming back after a rough full moon. He’s feeling down, he’s weak, both physically and emotionally, he’s one more time without his friends by his side, one more time alone as he was before the Marauders became Animaguses to be alongside him to support him during the roughest times (horrible people, isn’t it?). So Remus is coming back to his class of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and his best friend’s son is writing an essay on how to kill him. But Snape didn’t stop there, no, he told the whole Wizarding World that a man who had struggled to keep his condition secret all his life was a Werewolf. He had to withdraw from his position as a professor because of that, and straight after that the Ministry issued a law against Werewolves which made it impossible for Remus to have a job. So, to sum it up, not only he exposed him as a Werewolf, he also condemned him to live in poverty and be persecuted for that reason. Also, quoting, when Remus was trying to explain things in PoA he attacked him and said “I’ll drag the Werewolf, perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too.” James and Sirius were the kind of persons, the kind of friends and brothers, who risked their own life every month for one of his best friends. Think about this: they found out about Remus’ situation when they were just boys in their first years of school, and they didn’t leave him, they decided to help him embarking in something much bigger than themselves. Whereas dear lovely 33 year old Necrophilus told everyone about Remus’ secret and basically had him fired. Sounds angelic, why haven’t I thought about doing something like that before? That would most certainly secure me a spot in heaven!

Do we want to talk about an abusive person? Well, Snape was not just abusive as a person, he abused and took advantage of his position as a teacher (and Head of House too, to reward extra points from the other Houses) to bully his own students (even after his presumed “redemption”). He told Neville he would have given his failed potion to his toad, Trevor, so that the fatal effects of the potion would teach him a lesson. He bullied Neville to the point that he was literally his greatest fear - Neville’s parents were tortured to the point of insanity by Bellatrix, yet Snape was his greatest fear. He also condoned and took part in bullying when Draco cursed Hermione’s teeth to grow. He said he didn’t see any difference, then watched as she ran off crying. From the very start he starts bullying Harry: he perfectly knew he was raised by muggles, he knew how Petunia was and still went on to ask questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer. And after calling Neville and idiot for a mistake that anyone could have made he took points from Gryffindor because Harry didn’t tell him how to do it right - great teaching strategy, let’s nominate him for Most Valuable Teacher. Harry had nothing to do with what went on during Snape’s school years, but he physically resembled James and he was his son, so let’s bully him from the very first second! And honestly, asking an 11 years old Muggle-raised kid the difference between monskshood and wolfsbane in front of everyone on the first day? There is no difference! They are colloquial terms for the same plant. He just wanted the intellectual upper hand over a goddamn little kid. But he didn’t stop there: that resentful git always tried to blame Harry for something even without proof (as most of the time), and he physically abused Harry because he was angry (“Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard onto the dungeon floor.”). He knew how important it was for Harry to learn Occlumency and he stopped giving him classes and later ignored when Lupin asked him to start them again even when he knew how poorly Harry’s progressed. And he was cruel: he knew Harry was sad about Sirius’ death, and gave him a detention in which he was going to see his and his father’s names multiple times while copying out old detention records. Yes, Harry’s deeds should have called for expulsion, as McGonagall states, but Snape chose something more painful than that. Not only he punished Harry (don’t get me wrong, he almost killed Draco, he deserved detention if not expulsion), but he chose to inflict him more pain and at the same time tried to ruin the memory of Harry’s father figures. Ordinarily, copying out old detention records wouldn’t be worse than writing lines, but Snape vindictively tailored that detention to inflict pain. In addition to this, he could have been an awesome teacher if he wasn’t a disgusting waste of a human being. He knew from his teen years that the instructions that the textbooks were giving were not as goos as they could be so he improved the potions and recorded his own methods at 16. Harry himself states what an amazing teacher “the Prince” is. If Snape were not such a horrible person, he could have either written the entire textbooks himself, or taught his students his own alternate methods. Instead he spent his time bullying children. He could have been great and become everything a Slytherin should have been

Snape also saw his friends perform Dark Magic on Mary Macdonald and when confronted by Lily, literally didn’t see any problem with it and compared it with the Marauders’ pranks.

He called Lily, his supposed best friend, a Mudblood. Then he tried to get away with it by saying he didn’t mean it and that she (and only she) was different from the other Muggleborns. And Lily tried, she tried to tell him he was not on the right path, she tried, and she got called a racial slur from the person she trusted the most at the time. And, for the extremist Snape apologetics in the back, who even hate Lily (how can they hate on Lily I don’t know, but apparently these people exist too): Lily Evans did not owe anyone anything. She had the right to cut ties with her friends for any reason she pleased, whatever that’s because she was sick of them or because they were hanging out with a group of terrorists wannabe. She did not owe anyone her love, loyalty or energy. She tried to be Snape’s friend despite his other group of friends (“but Mulciber’s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don’t understand how you can be friends with them”), but there’s canon evidence that Snape chose his Death Eaters friends over Lily’s friendship and safety. It was her choice to cut ties with him after what he and his friends had done (and the racial slur of course, truly a touch of class), and it’s not like he was a good friend to begin with: he called all other Muggleborns “Mudblood” and was canon friends with the people who wanted Lily and other Muggleborns killed, and he even still wanted to be a Death Eater while being her friend. Like, wait here while I go out and slaughter your people, Lils! And if Snape stans are still arguing that he was suffering because he got dumped, that’s another no: he did not get dumped, she just didn’t have romantic feelings for him but was trying so hard to be his friend and he was just a whiny baby about it. Is that a crime? No, it isn’t. Is not getting over it and taking it out on countless kids who weren’t even born instead a crime? Yes, it is.

Also, from the get-go we see him drop a tree branch on Petunia. That shows that he didn’t see a problem in hurting the people Lily loved (seen later in a larger proportion, that’s his tag line). Lily loved her sister, but Petunia was an obstacle between her and Snape, hence, Snape hurt her. And no, that was not accidental underage magic, just as Lily performs magic on the flower, Snape uses magic to cause a tree branch to fall on Petunia. Even as a child he had no qualms about hurting someone Lily loved, this really serves to underscore the idea that Snape, with his so called love for Lily, was not invested in her happiness or wellbeing because he didn’t care about the people she loved. As a child he didn’t care about hurting her sister and at 20 he didn’t care about the imminent deaths of her husband and son. If he truly loved and cared for her, he would have wanted to see her happy. Not even considering how crushed she would have been if her husband and only child were dead, and she was left alone and pregnant in the middle of a war.

Okay so now let’s talk about James. Yes, James was a spoiled brat, and Lily hated him for that, then guess what? He matured, he started protecting the weaker ones and joined the Order along with Sirius, Remus and Lily to fight for a better world. He didn’t hold it against her nor did he sulk for days, he grew up and matured because he was a well adjusted human, unlike some. James Potter was many things other than an “arrogant bullying toerag” (hey, also, well done for trying to destroy a 15-year-old orphan’s memory of his heroic father): he was a friend who risked his life every month for Remus’s safety and comfort. A brother who took Sirius in and was “the best friend he ever had.” An adored friend of half-giant Hagrid, in an age when all “half-breeds” were looked upon with suspicion during the war. An all time “favourite student” of Minerva McGonagall, so much that she waited all day at his son’s future home and wept at his death. A savior of his enemies even when they were trying to expose his friends’ secrets. An activist protecting the right of existence for Muggles, Muggleborns and hybrids right out of school. A soldier who faced Voldemort three times and lived to tell about it. A caring father who went into hiding to protect his son. A loving husband who sacrificed his life for his family. A faded trace of magic still trying to guide his son when the man that killed him returned to life. A young man that inspired so much loyalty in his friends that Remus Lupin, who so feared the idea of harming people because of his condition, was 100% willing to abandon those morals to avenge his death, and would have done so, had Harry not reminded him and Sirius that James would not have wanted them to murder anyone for him. A Patronus helping Harry through his darkest moments until the very end. James had a friend facing bigotry and he became an illegal animagus to help make that friend’s life better. Snape had a friend facing bigotry and he joined up with the bigots. No one is trying to pretend that James was an angel, but he got better and better until his last breath. And again, that spoiled brat and the love of his life joined the resistance and were martyrs. James, Lily, Sirius and Remus all died for Harry. Are you trying to blame James and Lily for sacrificing their own lives to save their infant son? What terrible parents they were! Their sacrifice was an act of love and wait… actually ended up saving the Wizarding World. The only thing James and Snape had in common was that they would have both sacrificed James’s life in order to save Lily’s. James was the hero, he was the one who faced Voldemort without his wand (pretty dumb thing but he was a Gryffindor, hence no surprise) in order to give his wife and son more time to flee. When he opened that door on Halloween, he thought he was sacrificing his life so that they could live. He literally died wandless perfectly knowing he wouldn’t survive, but facing death for those he loved, hoping he would be able to stall enough time so they could escape. He was never more dedicated in anything in his short life than he was to the loves of his life: he died for Lily and Harry, and would have happily died for Sirius, Remus and Peter. And this is absolutely canon, of course it is: we might not have some explicit description of him but all we know comes from the lives he touched, how they talked / not talked about him, the pain they felt - the seven books are a testament of James and Lily’s love. James Potter was the kind of person that would have been happy to die for love, he would have taken pride in that. How do we know that? Are we making this up? No, we are not: all we have are the words of people who knew him, from his best friends to McGonagall, and who remembered him as a hero. This, albeit indirectly, speaks volume about the kind of person he was. He might have been obnoxious and arrogant as a teenager, but at 21 he died a hero - wandless, alone, betrayed, hopeless, but also bravely and out of love - and nothing can change either of those. Yes, he bullied Snape (let’s be clear here even though I highly doubt Snape did not retaliate) and that is a disgusting attitude. But how can you forgive a 31 year old man for bullying his kids and not a 15 year old boy who bullied one of his definitely not innocent classmates? Who matured and who later died, at the young age of 21, for his wife and son? How can you hate James Potter when as soon as he graduated, he was ready to fight a war against the most powerful wizard of his age? Yes, he had a big head and I am fairly certain he did actually strut - and let’s just take a moment to remember why Harry doesn’t know anything about him… oh, right, Snape went to Voldemort and told him about the prophecy - but he was a caring person, who stood up to what he thought and stood up for his friends and his family. The spoilt boy Snape’s apologetics hate, who grew up to be a great man, who died fighting and protecting, not some emo with a crush and an ego the size of the Great Lake! Wait, I hear somebody trying to bring up the “we have no real evidence of him becoming a better person” thing. Let me get this straight: James was mentioned to have jinxed other students, not to have bullied them. He did not pick out targets, it was implied to be done at random as it is explicitly stated that he jinxed random people in the corridors. Fred and George pranked other students in the same way, and they would have often have more disastrous effects, but no one calls them bullies. We know that on one known occasion attacks Snape with Sirius at his side and almost pantsed him with a spell of Snape’s own invention. James and Snape had a rivalry, and it was two-sided. It wasn’t James relentlessly hexing poor, innocent Snape, so if you still want to call James Potter a bully, okay, do it, he was a bully bullying a bully. The evidence speaks for itself: he was Head Boy in 7th year (hence I don’t think Dumbledore despised him that much), he was unapologetically a blood traitor, he dated Lily Evans (who hated him for how he was and would have never fallen in love with such a brat, so it’s pretty evident he did actually change), he joined the Order of the Phoenix (an anti-terrorist organisation, at the peak of the war, as a teenager, whereas someone else joins a racist dark cult), he died protecting his wife and child! And if we really, really want to bring the ‘evidence’ thing up… well, we have no evidence he bullied Snape, except for one little incident - I’m fairly certain he did, but let’s play it literally now. And since we are there, we may not have been blessed with more about the Marauders, but Sirius and Remus both tell Harry Lily changed his mind about James because he became a better person, why don’t Snape stans consider that an evidence pro James but “Snape’s worst memory” is their pro Snape pamphlet? That chapter showed us an incident where both Sirius and James were assholes but everyone that was there supported it but Lily. All the other Students supported it because of what the fandom conveniently forgets that Snape loved Dark Arts, disparagingly called Lily a Muggle twice, tried to expose Remus and run around with a group of Death Eater wannabes tormenting Muggleborns all through his school years (he literally says that torturing Mary Macdonald was funny - “That was nothing, it was a laugh, that’s all”), to the point where Lily’s friends and herself questioned their friendship: “none of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. I’ve made excuses for you for years.” And eventually, when questioned by Lily if he wanted to join Voldemort, he couldn’t find any way to lie to her: “you and your precious little Death Eater friends— you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You Know Who can you?”. He literally didn’t find anything wrong with Voldemort’s political position (only the fact that he wanted to kill his obsession, he only had that so called change of heart when it personally affected him as his beloved Dark Lord wanted to kill the object of his lust). So yes, he did join the Death Eaters because he wanted to and was everything he’d always desired. Does this make him a bad person? HELL YES.

And wait, can somebody remind me why the Potters were forced to hide? Wow, it must have been because Snivellus dearest spilled the tea to his master. So basically it went like this: “Hey Dark Lord! Our adorable group of racists kills Mudbloods for fun, but there’s this filthy Muggle born I fancy, can you please kill her husband and baby so that I can have her?” How the hell could he think Lily could have ever forgiven him? He was totally fine with Dumbledore saving Lily but not her husband and infant son (see how deeply he cared about Lily’s happiness?) and only cared for him being the rebound. James and Harry were totally expendable but hey, bravest man ever known!

So yes, he protected Harry (in his very own and questionable way, he did), but I’m sorry, that’s not enough. However, before someone says “in the end he cared about Harry” let me say a big, important fact: NAH HE DIDN’T. And not only he didn’t, but he also openly states that: in the Deathly Hallows chapter with the Pensieve, Snape describes Harry as selfish, self-important and arrogant - does it matter than all the other teachers like him and see none of those things? Of course not. And he’s not talking about sassy 4th-6th year Harry (who I really thank for that “there's no need to call me "sir" Professor” gem): Snape is tasing about an 11 year old who was picked on his whole life, who never had a family of his own and who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He’s a child, an orphan (now tell me what’s that heroic about tormenting an orphan). However, Snape had decided that Harry must be bad news from the start, so he reasonably spends six years making his life as difficult as possible. That’s a great way to honour Lily’s memory, right? Do Snape stans remember what their hero answered when Dumbledore asked if he had grown to care for the boy, after all? He literally shouted “for him?” before casting a Patronus (a little over obsessive too). He felt he owed it to Lily to make sure Harry survives, and for Merlin’s sake, he did! He went to Voldemort and basically condemned the Potters. I’m not saying he is THE reason why they died, that honour goes to the lurid latrine rat, but he is one of them. Protecting Harry was the least he could do. Switching allegiances doesn’t cancel the awful actions before Lily’s death, as much as taking advantage of his position can’t be justified by his loyalty to Dumbledore. And most importantly, he cannot be redeemed by his stalkerish obsession for Lily (or by the creepy ‘look at me I want to die looking into your mother’s eyes,’ ew). All he did was made out of selfishness, even in his quest to redeem himself. Snape had a chance to honour Lily's memory, and disregarded it every single day. He claimed to regret his past, yet his cruelty to Harry was persistent and immature. Plus, loving someone doesn’t redeem terrible deeds. He aligned himself with a terrorist organisation who murdered for sport entirely of his own volition, endorsed the torture of Muggleborns, but of course, what a hero! I will never understand how people continue to use Snape’s obsession with Lily and ‘protecting’ Harry thing as an excuse for all the pain and terror that he inflicted upon small children. Does that mean you’ll excuse a father who continuously hit and emotionally abused his child and made their life a living hell if his excuse was “well I was still protecting them they had their dead mother’s eyes”? This is SICK.

And if you can still argue that “he had a terrible childhood,” that is inarguable, however, it just cannot justify him. Remus was bitten when he was 4, he had no friends until he was 11, lived in constant fear that he was going to be outed as a Werewolf, was forced to turn into a monster every month, lost everyone he loved and lived in poverty for 14 years and still managed to be a decent person. Luna watched her mother die, was picked on by almost everyone, was treated as a freak and only had one friend until she was 14 and still managed to be a decent person. Ginny was literally possessed by Voldemort himself for almost a year, guess what? Decent person too. Neville was constantly told how worthless he was, lived knowing his parents were tortured to insanity and was bullied and belittled by everyone. Decent person? Yes, right again. And do we want to talk about THE lonely kid who was abused his entire life? Sirius was raised and abused by blood supremacists, was disowned by his family, framed for murder (of his best friends, for Merlin’s sake!) and literally lost almost everyone he loved and still managed to be a decent person. He couldn't help the way he was? The environment around him conditioned him to be that way? If I remember correctly, Harry was raised by neglectful relatives, wore ill-fitting clothes, felt inadequate among his peers… Harry is proof that a terrible childhood doesn’t excuse despicable behaviour.

So, Snape hated Neville because he could have been the Chosen One instead of Harry (but it’s definitely on him for going to Voldemort and condemning the Potters), he hated Harry because he was James’s copy and he hated Hermione because she was a Mudblood and brilliant as Lily was. Makes sense, again, and again, it stresses how much of a beautiful person and teacher he was, don’t you think so? Also, had Voldemort picked Neville to kill instead of Harry, Snape would still be a Death Eater. It’s not like he thought being part of a group of supremacists and terrorists was wrong. It wasn’t until something directly affected him that he turned his back to his master - so brave, right? Snape may have done some good for the Wizarding World when he joined the Order, but while he was alive, he was horrible. He wasn't fighting the good fight because he couldn't possibly imagine a world where Voldemort was in charge (honestly, he couldn't have cared less), he was doing it to spare Lily’s life and get her for himself. James and Lily fought for the light because they believed in the light. Snape fought against the dark because the dark had offended him. Had Voldemort gone after the Longbottoms instead, Snape would have lived and died as the most loyal Death Eater in history.

Wait, I hear a “there’s no evidence that Snape voluntarily murdered anyone in his entire life” over there! He joined a group whose aim was genocide and was actually one of the few members which were part of the inner circle of Death Eaters, he didn’t get there by throwing kisses and rose petals around. It is explicitly said that not all Death Eaters actually bore the mark. Only selected wizards can be part of Voldemort’s circle, and not only Snape was part of that circle during the First Wizarding War, but it is also heavily implied that he passed messages from Voldemort more than once. Plus, he was also able to speak directly to Voldemort and even ask him to spare Lily’s life. Voldemort actually told Lily to move over three times before killing her, and he didn’t do that because he had such a kind heart and wanted to spare a Muggleborn’s life, he did that because Snape begged him. And maybe we haven’t read the same books, but it’s not like Voldemort strolled along Diagon Alley offering favours to random people. In addition to this, Snape did most certainly kill someone since Dumbledore compares Draco’s soul to his, meaning he has done remorseless acts of great evil before, hence his soul was already damaged, unlike Draco’s. So please, stop saying Snape was somehow influenced into joining the Death Eaters and never committed any crime: he fully believed in what they pledged and actually longed about being one of them for years (according to Lily). No one manipulated him into joining said group nor into perpetrating crimes. And no one manipulated him into being a horrible person even after he “switched sides.” He’s the one who willingly decides to be a terrorist, he’s the one who willingly decides to abuse children half his age, and he’s the one having the nerve to be awful to Harry when he’s the reason why Harry doesn’t have any parents.

And he was so childish and cruel! He threw a tantrum after discovered he was getting an Order of Merlin and wasn’t going to see Remus and Sirius in jail (even though he knew they were innocent).

There we go: HE KNEW SIRIUS WAS INNOCENT (don’t try to deny it, he was part of the inner circle of Death Eaters, he perfectly knew Sirius was not the one selling the Potters to Voldemort)! Did this matter for him? Of course not! And was Snape cruel and abusive to Harry because he blamed himself for Lily’s death and Harry was a constant reminder of his guilt? Yes, he was. But you know who else blamed himself for the Potters’ deaths and also was constantly reminded of them by Harry, and yet, did not abuse him because of his guilt? That’s right, Sirius. Sirius whose death was indirectly caused by Snape who kept making fun of him for being locked in Grimmauld Place. Sirius who had no problems breaking out of Azkaban, all he had to do was turn into a dog and leave. He could have left anytime he wanted to over those twelve years but he didn’t. You know why? Because he thought he deserved to be there. It was his fault his friends were dead. Everyone could blame him all they wanted with false accusations and it didn’t matter, since to him, changing Peter to the Secret Keeper, he was guilty for his friends’ death and deserved to be in Azkaban. He only broke out when he knew Harry was in danger after seeing that filthy rat on the newspaper. And when he broke into Hogwarts? Do people remember those lines: Hermione said “It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” to which Ron responded “I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run. Didn’t realise it was Halloween.” Please, of course he realised it was Halloween, he perfectly knew that. He went after Peter on the anniversary of James and Lily’s death to revenge them and to save his godson. Sirius might have strut as much as James during his teens but again, he turned out to be a decent person.

And think about Harry, a 17-year-old grown up in an abused “family” (and still managed to be a decent person too): he has no memories of his parents, the only thing remained is a photograph. A photograph of a happy little family, showing James and Lily in love with the fruit of their love. Snape found it and ripped off and stole the half with Lily smiling so he could pretend her happiness and love were directed at him and not at her husband and son (yes, people, that disgusting moment actually existed, and it was so creepy Yates couldn’t put it in the movies). He stole Lily’s picture and Lily’s last words from Sirius, a friend she loved, the Potters’ best man, James’ brother. How nasty. What can I say, at least he waited until after Sirius’ death to go to Grimmauld Place and raid his bedroom?

Lovely Snivellus, such a cupcake, also laughed and mocked Tonks when her Patronus changed when she fell in love with Remus (let’s also remember that Tonks’s one was not the same as Remus’s, as stated by Rowling, before Snape stans can accuse me of applying double standards: Remus’s Patronus was a regular wolf, and okay Harry is oblivious at times, but he would have recognised a regular wolf) despite the fact that his own changed to match Lily’s - let’s just remember that THIS is obsessive behaviour, whilst James and Lily’s Patroni represent them being soulmates. Snape’s Patronus does not honour Lily, stop considering this the greatest romantic moment of all times, it does not show virtue nor morality, it’s just the representation of his creepy fascination with necrophilia. It’s disgusting, not noble. His so called love for Lily is creepy. She found happiness with another man, yet Snape was possessive, manipulative, and inarguably obsessive. And let’s remember that J.K. Rowling said that “he thought Lily would find him impressive if he became a real Death Eater”… was he really her best friend or was he just completely blinded by his attraction to the dark side? This is not a redemptive love, this is problematic, toxic, abusive, emotionally-stunted, obsessive.

This is because there was never a love triangle and that’s why there is simply NO Team Snape! Not winning at the genetic lottery doesn’t justify being such an awful person! Also, THIS is why the tag line should be changed from “always” to “Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll hold him off!” or to “until the very end” because a father’s eternal love for his son is much more important than a racist’s obsession of a dead woman (dead because he contributed to her death, to be precise). His always and doe patrons can’t get him out of this one. Eventually, let’s remember J.K. Rowling’s dedication in Deathly Hallows: “[…] to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end.” Not “always” nor creepy moaning, just the pure words of a hero, of a loving father who died protecting the ones he loved most.

Now, I don’t get why we should celebrate Snivellus as the hero of Slytherin and an example of the “not all Slytherins are evil” when Regulus Black died in a cave, drowned by reanimated corpses to bring about the downfall of Voldemort, and Narcissa Black straight up lied to Voldemort because she’s first and foremost a mother, ruthless in doing whatever it took to save her beloved son. Regulus and Narcissa were brave: despite their flaws they knew what mattered the most and they were two big key factor in Harry’s survival and Voldemort’s demise. Sure, Snape was among the three that deceived the Dark Lord, but whilst Regulus did it because he realised what was right and what wasn’t, and Narcissa did it because of love, putting her family first (plus, she wasn’t even a Death Eater, and this tells a lot about her, as her loyalties solely lie with her family), Snape did it because resentfulness. Sure, Regulus joined the Dark Eaters of his own free will and Narcissa did what she did only after having her family threatened, but since one of Snape stans’ major point in his defence is his family being abused, let’s take their family into consideration too. The Blacks were pureblood supremacist, they grew up within that establishment and yes, some members of the family rejected those arguable ‘values’ but not everyone has the courage to do that (also, every Black family member is indisputably a badass, don’t get me started on that). On the contrary, Snape was a half-blood, and still, ended up hating muggleborns - yes, don’t try to say he didn’t, he joined the Death Eaters because he believed in Voldemort’s cause. He disparages mud bloods, he joins in on their massacre as a Death Eater after having idolised them for years in school before actually joining them. Read this again: he idolised a group of pureblood supremacist, he actively helps orchestrate genocide against the muggleborns. And what is his Freudian excuse? He believed that, in so far as Halfblood, he had to ‘prove’ that he was magical and capable enough (does this remind you of somebody else who hated muggles albeit being a half-blood and eradicates his whole Muggle family?), you can see that in how he strived to highlight his maternal Prince lineage in his stupid nickname. And no, now don’t try to blame the Marauders’ behaviour for this: Severus Snape, the man you glorify, hated muggleborns and went out of his way to commit genocide against them. So, in the end, if you still deny that, despite it being clear in the books, you are being dishonest. If, on the contrary, you fully realise it and still glamorise Snape despite how horrible of a person he was, well Snape stans, you have sunk to a new low. I’m not trying to justify anyone who supported said supremacist beliefs, but at least Regulus and Narcissa were born and bred within one of the Sacred 28, those beliefs were instilled in them from the very beginning, Snape reached them all on his own (well done for embracing your nazi self Snivellus). Regulus turned his back on Voldemort as soon as he realised how wrong he had been: at age 18, he literally sacrificed himself to try and stop his master. Narcissa, on the other hand, never sworn loyalty to Voldemort: she was a pureblood elitist, yes, she was guided by pride, but she was also calm, rational and restrained where her sister was crazed and her husband was reckless. So… Regulus faced death in the hope that when when the time had come, Voldemort would have met his match and would have been mortal once more, and Cissy only wanted best for her family and did everything she could to protect her son. She perfectly knew that Voldemort could have easily killed her in a second, but she wanted to find Draco, kept a straight face as the strong woman she was and fooled the Dark Lord. And why did Snape deceive Voldemort? Oh, right, he told him the prophecy that eventually led to the killing of the woman he was obsessed with (and no, again, he did not care at all about her husband and baby), this, of course after asking him to spare her life so that he could have had her (so this is, once again, classic Snivellus holding grudges). Regulus and Narcissa are pretty much the epitome of Slytherin, and still, let’s celebrate Snape! As a Slytherin myself, I am utterly disgusted by Snape’s behaviour. He could have been an amazing teacher, he had the talent to be one of the greatest Potions masters ever, and he willingly chose to throw it away in favour of being awful for the sake of bullying his own pupils. If we have to pick characters who proved that not all Slytherins are evil, let’s look at Regulus, let’s look at Narcissa, let’s look at Slughorn and Andromeda. Slughorn fought against Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts and refused to become a Death Eater, Andromeda married a Muggleborn. And guess what? None of them bullied children for 15 years.

Then, for the “I sometimes think we Sort too soon” thing… no, just no. Before you can start yelling at me, I am not, I repeat, I am absolutely not saying this because I endorse the whole Gryffindor being saints thing. I am a Slytherin, and a proud one. I just don’t agree that Snape was brave. Is being a resentful, childish and abusive man being brave? Wow, I’ll have to refresh my vocabulary! It is not brave to bully your pupils for years because you lost your loved one, it is not brave to refuse to accept a woman loves somebody else and moves on, it is not brave to keep a childhood grudge against that someone because they ‘stole’ the so called love of your life, it is not brave to try to destroy an orphan’s image of their heroic father. Snape was burned Lily had chosen James over him, so burned that, fuelled by jealousy and envy (and by his pretty questionable ideals too, because it’s too convenient to forget he is 100% a Death Eater and hence a supporter of Voldemort’s lovely view for the Wizarding World), he struck out and ended up getting Lily killed. I don’t consider playing the martyr by “teaching” (if we really want to call that teaching instead of child abuse) and being an occasional spy being brave. I call it feeling guilty, I call it ‘I deserve to suffer for hurting Lily but I still choose to bully her own son instead of honouring her,’ I call it ‘I keep on tormenting an orphan because I hated his father and he looks too much like him, plus, he has his mother’s eyes so I’m constantly remembered of 1) Lily choosing James over me and 2) Lily dying because of me telling my beloved Dark Lord the prophecy.’ Any protection Snape offered Harry, he did it because of his penance, not because protecting him (and hence stopping Voldemort) was the right choice. Wow, how brave of him. I don’t think Snape could have been a Gryffindor at all, and I hated how David Yates (again, very conveniently for his martyr business) placed the Gryffindor scarf hanging up in the background in Snape’s death scene as a nod to his supposed bravery. Like, really?! Even if you really want to call him brave, he’s still an awful person who shouldn’t have been allowed to teach because of how abusive he was, an awful person who was a member and supporter of a supremacist, racist and violent sect, an awful person who caused the death of innocent people - and I could go on and on. You can’t let a few good deeds outweigh all the bad! It’s not like some potion or Imperius Curse made him join the Death Eaters, spill the tea about the prophecy and terrorise those children. He willingly chooses to do that because he was an awful person until the very end. And still, Snape apologists be like “the conclusion of his arc is that abusing your position of power over children is forgivable if you stalked one of their parents when you were a teen.” Again, sick.

Snape’s portrayal in the movies is entirely fan-service throughout the whole series of films, but especially in DH part 2: they never showed Sirius arriving at the Potters the night Lily and James died, they never showed the moment his whole world collapsed when he saw the corpses of his best friends, the moment he blamed himself for what had happened. No, we got an entirely made-up (and creepy) scene of Snape getting there, holding Lily’s body and crying when that never happened! We also never got a scene with Sirius and Remus evidently struggling to hold it together while they tell Harry about James, how he changed and how Lily fell in love with him. Their pain would have shown how much James had an impact on their lives, for the better, but of course, we only got a partial rendition of Snape’s worst memory, with careful cuts of course, they couldn’t say he didn’t find anything wrong with the torture of Muggleborns, right?

You can like Snape, sure, he’s a flawed character with an interesting past, but he’s not a hero, stop portraying him as such instead of what he really was: an abusive, creepy, racist man. You are allowed to like villains (who doesn’t?) but stop praising him! You don’t have to justify his actions because you like him: he was awful, recognise it.

Do we (still) need to talk about double standards? Well, there we go: people hate Lavender Brown and Cho Chang. Fair enough, pretty annoying girls if you want to hear me, but why do they get hate? They get hate for how they handle their feelings: Lavender gets hate for how she handles her unrequited romantic feelings, and Cho gets hate for crying and grieving over the death of her boyfriend. Does this sound like a thread to you? With the sole difference that they get more hate than Snape and this is disturbing and honestly just sick. He is a terrorist, he literally moans the entire series and abuses and terrorises children because he couldn’t have Lily but hey, misunderstood hero!

Stop romanticising Snape: the only reason why people love him is Alan Rickman, and all of this hatred is just a pathetic way of trying to cover up that James grew up while Snape didn’t. How can people glorify and stand up for a man who canonically is a vindictive bully? To be honest, I’m genuinely concerned for people who over romanticise such a man. Correct me if I’m wrong: do you see anyone sticking up for the Dursley’s or Umbridge, when they do basically the same stuff to Harry as Snape? How is Necrophilus any different? I will never regard him as a hero for as long as I am alive, however, the movies conveniently cut those parts where Snivellus was the half princey of baddies, right? Also, I really wish Sirius could have found out about this lovely nickname Snape gave himself as a teenager, that alone would have cured his depression, post traumatic stress disorder and alcoholism, this is a real tragedy.

Severus Snape did not die for love. He died because Voldemort thought hew was the true Elder Wand owner. I repeat: he did not die for love. Period.

He raised a wand to McGonagall!

Avada

Kedavra

#jamespotter #marauders #lilypotter #severussnape #snivellus #hp #hogwarts #harry potter #jily

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lostgirlrewatch · 4 years

Text

1x11 - Faetal Justice (gettin real tired of your puns, Michelle, jk I never will)

Written by: Peter Mohan

Directed by: Robert Lieberman

Original Air Date: November 28, 2010

Oops. I missed a week. Sorry :( I’m back with episode 1x11.

Dyson gets framed for murdering some Dark Fae, and the gang has to prove him innocent.

Hey, remember the club, guys? Remember what that was like? Also Vex is back. Yay.

I wish my kitchen looked that fancy. I can’t keep vegetables that fresh. Their setup only looks like it will produce tasty food, though, because apparently they can’t cook for shit.

I am excited enough to see Hale that I took this screenshot for no reason.

But anyway, Bo and Kenzi are of course investigating the crime, as they do, while Dyson invokes sanctuary back at the Dal. Which basically means that Trick clears the whole bar out and lets Dyson hang out there for some amount of time where the Dark Fae can’t immediately come after him for killing one of their own.

They end up back at the club that Dyson woke up next to, which is Vex’s club. They start to suspect Vex may have something to do with framing Dyson for the murder. I can’t imagine why.

Vex makes a comment about how “another killer in the room (Bo) adds to the excitement,” to which Kenzi fiercely replies that Bo isn’t a killer. Vex is skeptical, considering how many people she has killed over the years, and suggests that he and Bo compare “scores.”

That hit below the belt.

Evony arrives at the Dal to pick up Dyson, in spite of sanctuary, because she has decided that the rules don’t apply to her. “Just think of me as a VIP,” she says. “I do.”

What a queen. Listen, is she wrong? Do the rules apply to Evony? Need they?

She has such queen energy that I love every time she shows up, even if she does absolutely nothing except make snarky comments. You have to appreciate the dominating energy of the woman in charge of the entire darker half of the supernatural underworld. She eventually backs off though.

Meanwhile, to Bo’s surprise, Lauren shows up at the precinct to discuss the case with her and Hale. (Hale invited her, and didn’t think to tell either of them that the other would be there, because he has no idea what’s going on between them.)

Bo is still pissed as fuck. I didn’t bother getting a screenshot, but the glare she gives Lauren is just as withering as it was last time.

So Lauren does...science-y stuff, I guess. I don’t really listen to what she’s saying when she talks about her science shit. I think Lauren is suggesting that Dyson turn himself in to the Dark Fae, though? So they can compare bite marks or something? Okay, I just rewatched the scene. Lauren suggests that Dyson turn himself in and wait while they go through a whole forensics analysis of the scene to determine his innocence (not acknowledging the possibility that evidence against Dyson may have been planted). Bo is like, “fuck no.” Lauren claims that in spite of the fact that she and Dyson “haven’t always been on the best of terms,” she is “actually trying to help here.”

It doesn’t end well. It’s awkward.

Hmm...*narrows eyes* Wait.

Stick around, Lauren fans. You’ll love this. I’m analyzing Lauren.

Lauren’s solutions to problems are always very...clinical. They’re clinical without fail, often to the point of being...not good solutions.

Lauren’s solution to Dyson’s problem--being accused of murder--is to have him turn himself in so that they can run tests and have the evidence prove him innocent. This is such a clearly half-assed idea, I don’t even really know why she suggested it. This idea is like if you could not care less about Dyson or this entire situation at all but you were dragged into being a part of the brainstorming session and you were forced to contribute something. It scans as laziness. Like either Lauren’s brain is too exhausted to put any energy whatsoever into trying to help Dyson, or she actually doesn’t care about him at all and is only there out of obligation and because of Bo. Hm.

Lauren’s solutions to problems don’t just rely on science, I get she’s a scientist and those are the skills she brings to the table. She goes a step farther. Her solutions are always devoid of emotion. Think about why that is.

I mean, turning Dyson in to the Dark Fae is objectively a terrible idea, first of all because they would one hundred percent immediately string him up and torture him for information. (Which is exactly what they do later in the episode!) Lauren is not stupid. She’s a smart gal. She should know this. If she knows that Dyson would be tortured, why would she suggest he turn himself in unless she has absolutely no emotional investment in his physical or mental wellbeing whatsoever? Again, it’s a clinical solution that treats the people involved as though they are pieces in a puzzle.

Second of all, Lauren suggests they run a bunch of tests and rely on forensic evidence to determine whether or not Dyson is innocent. She says, “Hopefully [the animal hairs on the body] won’t match Dyson’s DNA, and hopefully we’ll get [the results] on time.”

“That’s way too many ‘hopefully’s,” Bo snaps back.

Lauren doesn’t seem that concerned with whether the hairs do or don’t match Dyson’s DNA. I mean, “hopefully” they won’t, but she is content to take the risk, let the situation play out, and let the evidence speak.

But she is also completely ignoring the possibility that even if the evidence incriminates Dyson, it might have been planted there by whoever is trying to frame him. What then? There would be no way to prove that it was planted in time--the Dark Fae would instantly execute him, and no one could stop them because he’d be in their custody. Even a cursory review of Lauren’s half-assed, not-thought-out plan reveals that it’s past risky and more in the realm of stupid.

So you tell me. I’m more interested in hearing what anyone else has to say about her than writing what I think. What is the deal with Lauren? Why is she like this? Is she so cold and unfeeling that she doesn’t have any concern for the physical and emotional wellbeing of others? Does she just not give a fuck about Dyson specifically? Or is she so burnt out and exhausted by the mental strain of her job and her enslavement that she can’t summon any emotional energy whatsoever, and has to completely rely on cold logic to offer anything at all?

I said Lauren fans would like this because I was analyzing her, but I neglected to mention that I would also be dunking on her. Sorry if you were duped. I feel like I offered her a way out at the end there, though. Give me all your pro-Lauren arguments if you feel so inclined.

Anyway, Bo and Hale have a nice little mini-conversation afterwards. Hale confesses that he once thought Bo might be bad for Dyson, that she’d break his heart or he’d destroy himself for her.

He tells her he was wrong, and that she’s “the real deal.” How sweet.

The only witness to the crime is apparently this human girl named Porscha, who reminds Kenzi a lot of herself. Porscha is also young, on the streets, and a runaway from a bad home situation.

I don’t really care about her or like her as a character, but I do appreciate that her presence prompts Kenzi to drop a few more tidbits of information about her past here and there. For instance, she mentions that she’s been on her own since she was 15, which seems like a long time but is actually only like four years because Kenzi is 19 and therefore a literal baby.

More interesting is this exchange. Porscha comments that it must be nice that Kenzi and Bo have each other. Kenzi responds a little awkwardly. She agrees that it is nice, but then she says that she’s still getting used to it. She’s still getting used to “being noticed.” Because when she was at home, she says, it was always better to not be noticed. “That’s when things got ugly.”

Yeah. So as if we didn’t already know, Kenzi comes from an abusive home. A home that was so awful that it was better to run away and be on the streets at 15. Then she was completely alone for four years, and homeless for that entire time.

Think about it. Living with Bo like this must feel so odd. Kenzi has never lived in a house with another person before where it actually felt like a home and she actually felt safe. The way she sort of averts her eyes, tenses a little bit when she says she’s still getting used to it (Ksenia is fantastic as always by the way) is such a realistic portrayal of a response to recovery from trauma.

The way I like to think of it is this. Going from being in a long-term traumatic situation to being in a safe and loving situation is kind of like putting a frostbitten hand in warm water. Warming it up is good, it’s healing, but when your hand is so used to being cold, warming it up is going to hurt like hell. Recovering from trauma is kind of like that. Good things can hurt, especially when you’re not used to them.

But it doesn’t hurt quite so bad for Kenzi that she’s ready to flee and go back to being alone the streets, which is what is familiar to her. It just seems like it’s mildly uncomfortable. And that’s good. Because it means she can get used to being loved and having a family.

Jesus, why am I writing these things every week, they’re so long. LMAO help

So the episode ends with the reveal that it was the bartender all along! GASP! Side note: the whole reason this episode happened is because this bartender, who is clearly an adult man (physically in his 20s or 30s but actually much older since I assume he’s Fae?) was apparently “in love” with the human girl Porscha, who, based on her conversations with Kenzi, is definitely supposed to be a teenager. And also based on her conversations with Kenzi, Porscha has even “stayed over a few times” at his place. Can you say creepy? Adult man taking advantage of a young girl on the street who has no family and nowhere else to go? Grooming her? Just saying.

In a moment that I find somewhat disturbing and rather cold, the main gang all walk out and leave the bartender to be (most likely) brutally tortured and murdered by Vex and the Morrigan. That’s him up there. I mean, I know the Dark Fae are a practically untouchable political powerhouse, and there’s not really anything Bo and the others could do, but still. They totally just left this guy to his death.

But significantly, the episode ends with Bo and Dyson sharing a kiss, as they reaffirm their feelings for one another, and seemingly enter an official romantic relationship.

Oh boy! How cute. :) I wonder what’s next for these two.

Surely not heartbreak and suffering?

Big plot developments of the episode: Bo and Dyson are (it’s implied) officially an item now. This is Bo’s first legit committed relationship in the series. #dybo #neverforgetwhereitallbegan #rip #F and respect to the two people and a potato chip who like this ship #will this actually tag this post

#lost girl #bo dennis #kenzi malikov #lauren lewis #dybo #dyson #lost girl rewatch #1x11

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wcstlcys · 4 years

Text

( IMOGEN POOTS. THIRTY. CIS-FEMALE. SHE/HER. ) in texas, FRANCINE WOLFF is more commonly known as FRANKIE. they’ve been living in stratford for THIRTY YEARS and currently a PARAMEDIC. some say they are AMORAL & MEEK but i’m more inclined to believe those that say they’re UNPREDICTABLE & BENEVOLENT. if you walk by their house, you can sometimes hear UNDER THE GRAVEYARD by OZZY OSBOURNE playing from their window. ( trembling hands , blood stained uniform , torn up medical books , chipped nail polish )

[ BLOOD, DRUGS, DRUG ABUSE & ADDICTION, OVERDOSE TRIGGER WARNINGS ]

basics.

* goes by frankie – will cry if you call her francine

* panromantic / pansexual

* has a fairly nasty pill habit

* horror movie fanatic

* has a fairly nasty pill habit

* frankie is one of the only members of her family who did not choose a career within the police department

* major family issues

* very obscure sense of morals, mostly just wants to help people even if that means breaking the law

about.

✘ frankie has spent her entire life in stratford, for no other reason that she does not know where else to go. generations of her family have grown up here and never left – so why should she ?? she feels as if she’s stuck and should simply remain.

✘ with her father and grandfather being both deputies within the sheriffs department, along with her siblings as well, frankie has always felt pressured by their reputation. especially with their very much outspoken hatred towards the gangs within town. perhaps it was her rebilious phase settling in, but she found herself drawn towards those groups. outlaws of any kind, really. anything that screamed the entire opposite of her family.

✘ frankie’s interest in medicine comes from an unusual source. she’s had a strange fascination with blood and violence from a young age. something about it simply just attracts her and she can’t particularly place a finger on it. in fact, the interest bothers her quite greatly at times. she tries her best to ignore it and tries to place it into a practical sense. which is why she chose to go into the field of EMS, she could fuel her obsession without anyone batting an eye, and at the same time she could help people.

✘ while frankie is a paramedic, she’s an incredibly corrupt one. a lot of her patients end up being criminals, a lot of the time in trouble with the law or hold the potential to be in some sort of trouble. she’s helped people escape custody at the hospital numerous times, failed to report things she should to the police, smuggle out medications and supplies from the hospital, and everything in between. she neither views her actions as right or wrong, she’s simply just helping out people when she can.

✘ a lot of her paramedic work also happens off duty, where she’s called into sketchy situations because people can’t go to the hospital in fear of being caught or questioned by the police. she can no longer keep track of the amount of times she’s had to stitch up someone in a poorly lit room with limited supplies at her disposable. but she does it every time, without question.

✘ [ DRUG TRIGGER WARNING ] while on the outside, frankie seems to handle her job just fine, more times than not she had to self-medicate in order to keep her nerves in check. she witnesses a lot of tragedy, death and grief in her lifetime and she has to keep her composure somehow. she refuses to believe she has an addiction, and for those who are aware of it she simply denies it all. her addiction has caused a near constant tremble in her hands, only disappearing when she’s hyper focused on her work. it’s a characteristic she tries to ignore, and shrugs her shoulders when pointed out.

✘ [ OVERDOSE TRIGGER WARNING ] unfortunately , after a particularly bad incident, frankie accidentally overdosed and landed herself in hospital for a short stint of time. her father, not wanting to have any shame or question directed towards his family, managed to keep the whole thing under wraps. a few people are aware of what happened, but for some reason of the other keep quiet about it. especially the person who found her [ yall im sorry but potential connection bye ] she took a brief break from her job whilst she was recovering, and for a lot of people her short disappearance is left unanswered. since the overdose she’s been sort of sober if you can even call it that. she’s been trying to keep things under control but ya gal ain’t so good at that.

✘ when she’s not doing EMS work, both on and off-duty, you’ll probably find her at a club or bar of some sort trying to wind down. it’s not so much about the drinking, she just likes to party and dance whenever she gets the chance. she’s pretty busy most of the time, and ends up taking a lot of night shifts, so partying isnt something she gets to do all the time. she can be quite shy sometimes so she needs a bit of a party setting in order to let loose and have some fun. is that troubling ?? maybe so, but she chooses to ignore it.

✘ horror movie fanatic. are we surprised ?? you’ll often find frankie locked up in her house, horror movies playing in the background. it keeps her sane and she would very much appreciate it if you don’t mention it. she finds it a little embarrassing sometimes. she’s very shy ALRIGHT.

✘ if you call her francine she might just cry. she hates it. only her family calls her that. if you’re special she MIGHT accept fran in a pinch but she always introduces herself as frankie. francine is reserved for family and legal documents alright.

wanted connections.:

✘ BLACKMAIL: [ OPEN ] someone who has gained the knowledge of her corrupted ways and is using it as a means to exploit her. whether it’s because they dislike her, they need information, or they are simply malicious and want to use it against her for their own needs and wishes. please for the love of god torture frankie goodbye

✘ FIRST LOVE / FIRST HEARTBREAK: [ OPEN ] because i am a hopeless romantic and also love angst, i demand some cute yet tragic love for frankie. am i lame and going to suggest it be a biker ?? maybe so, but i’m honestly down for civilians as well, whatever works out best !! i see this as someone she’s known for a good chunk of her life and the relationship may have been and off again and on again type of scenario. i also imagine they’re in the know of all her corrupt behavior within the EMS. idk man gimme angst so i can cRY

✘ EXES: [ OPEN ] even after her first heartbreak i imagine she’s dated around here and there. lots of opportunities for messy relationships with her busy work schedule and all the shady stuff she does on the sidelines.

✘ BEST FRIENDS / RIDE OR DIES: [ OPEN ] these would be the people she loves with her whole heart. she would do absolutely anything for them and literally commit crimes and risk her job for them. these could be childhood friends or simply friends she’s met along the way, even through her work ! especially her off-duty work

✘ FRIENDSHIPS: frankie needs friends ok pls she can be so sweet and loving and i just want her to drown everyone in platonic love and kisses

✘ HOOKUPS / FWBS: [ OPEN ] listen…ya gal has needs. she has a very busy schedule and doesnt have a lot of time to date. she needs to let off some steam alright ok cool

✘ PATIENTS / WORK RELATED [ OPEN ]: frankie opens up her services to a lot of people. sometimes she gets paid, other times she’s just owed a favour – but most of the time she simply just does it to help out. i imagine a lot of these connections would be affiliated with the gangs. she’s very much neutral to both sides and tries to help out whenever she can.

✘ WORK CONNECTIONS [ OPEN ]: police, fire department, hospital workers PLEASE come give frankie some love cus i imagine they’d interact a lot based off of their careers.

ok SO this is all i can think of right now but i am ofc open to a lot more connections and i REALLY wanna plot with all of yall and snatch up those connections.

#rideintro.#rideintro #yeeting these again bye #also i had to use that gif bc i love it

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rationalcashew · 4 years

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The Fifth Night

Mulder’s feeling better after his stomach bug. Scully starts to panic about the relationship.

Mulder wasn’t quite sure when Scully left the night before; all he knew was that he was disappointed that she didn’t stay. Part of him wanted to look around for a note, but he knew there wouldn’t be one. They weren’t there, yet.

Everything was still new despite knowing each other for years. New and uncertain. One wrong move could send the entire thing spiraling and he couldn’t risk that. So, he played it safe.

Which bought him last night, he assumed. He was sick as all hell and she took care of him. It was very… domestic.

Not that he had any issues with domesticity. In fact, in the past, he’d pictured having a family and living a simple life. That picture, however, was meant to take place after he found Samantha.

Yet, the more he thought about last night, the more he wondered if this was his simple life. In some twisted way, that was. It was simple because he realized that he didn’t need much. Just her.

Mulder wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d fallen in love with Scully. Literally, he woke up one day, faced himself in the mirror, and admitted it. He had to admit it. He watched his own face light up when he heard her voice on the other end of the phone as he tried to brush his teeth.

Since then, he couldn’t erase it. He couldn’t hide it nor pretend. And, some days, that was torture.

But, then, things started shifting. She indulged him a little more; flirted back. She started falling for him, too.

For awhile, Mulder was okay with how things had been going. Better that than nothing all, he’d often rationalized. He took it on her terms. Not because he was raised an eastern gentleman, but because the risk was too high.

Out of the blue, she’d invited him over for dinner and a Christmas movie. In that same conversation, it became a week-long event.

Until last night. Until he’d spent the day puking up, very literally, anything he put in his body. But, she was there.

Whether as his doctor, his partner, his friend, his girlfriend—.

Whoa.

His girlfriend.

Mulder liked the sound of that.

But, Scully wasn’t his girlfriend. Not in any official capacity, anyway. They hadn’t had that conversation.

He told himself that they would one of these days but he couldn’t honestly say that he believed it.

The past week, though… God, it felt like it. And, it felt good. It was nice knowing there was someone who genuinely cared about him. It was nice to have someone cuddle close to him while watching TV. It was nice holding her in his arms. It was nice to fall asleep with her running her fingers through his hair.

He didn’t want it to end at the end of the seven day period. He didn’t want it to end a month from now. He didn’t want it to end at all.

That was the scary part: Mulder couldn’t see the end. It was exhilarating as it was terrifying. Like, skydiving. Or, so he imagined.

Even though he still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, Mulder made his way to the bathroom to go through his morning routine: shower, shave; forego the coffee because he wasn’t completely sure his stomach could handle it, yet.

He didn’t feel like he was feverish so he was going to work. He needed to see her.

When he got there, however, he found out that she was assisting in Quantico for the day, leaving him alone in the office. If he’d known he wouldn’t see her at all, he would’ve just stayed home.

Around lunch, his phone rang.

“Mulder,” he answered.

“Mulder? Hey, it’s me.”

He smiled. “Hey, Scully.”

“You sound better.”

“I feel better.”

“Good. Good. I tried calling your home phone…”

“I’m not at home.”

“Mulder…” He smirked at the disapproval in her voice. Really, he expected nothing less.

“I’m actually at the office. And, you’re not.”

“Sorry, I’m stuck doing autopsies today,” she replied, sighing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was disappointed. And, not just in him for going to work.

“So, I heard,” Mulder replied. “Are we still on to watch a movie later?” Scully didn’t answer for a moment and he got nervous. “Scully?”

“I’m here. Are you feeling up to it?”

He smiled at that, resisting the urge to tell her that nothing could keep him from coming over except her word.

“I feel fine. No fever. I’ve been able to keep down food today.”

She didn’t say anything again. Mulder couldn’t help but to wonder if his illness was the excuse she needed to stop with these nights. Was she running away? Or, what if he got her sick? He smirked at the thought. He’d just have to take care of her the way she did him.

“You’re welcome to come over and watch a movie with me,” Scully finally responded. “Only if you feel up to it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Mulder replied with a smile.

“Okay.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it gave him butterflies. She wanted to see him. “What have you been able to keep down? I don’t want to make something that you can’t eat.”

It was his turn to grin.

“I kept down a sandwich earlier,” he offered. “I probably could’ve eaten two, but I didn’t want to push it.”

“Okay. Well—.” He heard the muffled voice of another man and fought the urge to get jealous as Mulder told himself that it was probably just some poor lab geek returning from doing Scully’s bidding. Like any man would. “Mulder, I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“It’s a—.” He heard the click on the other end of the phone as she disconnected the call. “Date,” Mulder finished to himself.

He exhaled deeply through the mouth.

It was going to be a long rest of the day.

At six o’clock that evening, Mulder stood outside of Scully’s apartment, waiting for her to answer the door, poinsettias in hand. He was early and hoped she didn’t mind.

“Muuulllldeeeer…” she said in that sheepish yet grateful way that she did whenever he did something particularly sweet. She gave him a peck on the cheek and thanked him for going to find a place for it. Mulder couldn’t help but chuckle at the sounds of Alvin and the Chipmunks singing about the holiday.

He’d give her crap about that later.

He noticed the Christmas tree in the corner when he took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack. He’d wondered when she’d finally put one up.

“Scully, you know I would’ve brought this up for you,” he said with a slight hint of admonishment.

Scully waved him off. “I paid the teenager next door twenty bucks to do it.” He must’ve made a face because she stiffened awkwardly and added, “You can put the lights on it while I make dinner, if you want. They’re already out.”

He nodded, forcing himself to contain his happiness at being able to share in that. Scully loved Christmas. She had since he’s known her.

“They’re in that tub over there,” she said, pointing to one of three tubs labeled ‘Christmas’. With that, she went to the kitchen and Mulder went to work.

By six thirty, Mulder found himself tangled in Christmas lights and Scully laughing at him but doing nothing to help free him of his multi-colored bondage.

“A little help?” He asked and she finally made her way over to unwrap him.

There was a euphemism in there somewhere, he thought but chose not to say that aloud.

When he was free of the cords, Scully went back to the kitchen to check on dinner and came back, declaring that it would be ready in a few minutes.

He got the lights on the tree in time for the oven’s timer to go off.

Scully loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and made her way back to the living room to help Mulder decorate the tree. When she got into the living room, she caught sight of the poinsettias on the table behind the couch. It was thoughtful of him and she appreciated the gesture, but the look on his face when he gave them to her gave her butterflies.

Even now, when she saw them in passing.

“So, what first?” He asked.

She pointed to the tub containing ornaments and told him they’d start there.

As they decorated the tree, Scully stole glances at him. This particular step of their relationship, while still undefinable, was exciting and nerve-racking at the same time. On the one hand, it was just Mulder. Her best friend. Her partner. On the other hand, it was Mulder. Her best friend and partner.

She’d been in love with him for longer than she cared to admit and knew he felt the same. So, why was this so hard; so… Scary?

“The Grinch,” she smiled. “Followed by Holiday Inn, if you want to stick around for that.”

“No White Christmas? No Charlie Brown? I’m disappointed.”

Scully smirked in response, desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. “Those are Christmas Eve movies.”

“Ah,” he replied with a self-satisfied smirk. They stared at each other for a moment and she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll get the fire started.”

He was already in the living room before she could process what he’d said.

Mulder sat anxiously through most of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Scully was acting differently than she had all week. She was… hesitant. Part of him wondered if he’d done something wrong. Another part of him wondered if he’d gotten her sick.

He glanced at her, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. They should’ve been cuddled together by now. But, they weren’t.

“Scully?” He blurted. She looked at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Mulder nodded his response. “Why?” She added.

“You just seem… I don’t know. I didn’t give you that bug I had, did I?”

She chuffed a laugh. “No, I’m fine.”

“Famous last words.” Mulder tried to sound playful, but the look she gave him said he’d failed. Miserably. He winced at returned his gaze to the TV.

A solid while went by before the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes, causing Mulder to blurt, “Wouldn’t he die if that happened?”

He glanced to Scully who was shooting him the most adorably confused expression he’d ever seen on her perfect face.

“It’s a cardiomyopathy, right?” He continued. It took a moment, but a grin formed on her face. “See, I pay attention when you say words I don’t quite understand.”

“Oh, Mulder,” she said in that way that made his insides knot up.

“I’m just saying,” he continued playfully, “it’s not natural. It’s bound to lead to heart failure.”

She laughed at that and he felt like he could breathe again.

There was a moment of silence, as the credits rolled, before Mulder asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mm,” she replied. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

“Oh, okay.” Try as he might, he couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I’ll get out of your hair, then. Let you get some sleep.”

She looked at him curiously before getting up to rewind the tape.

“I’m still going to watch Holiday Inn,” she announced quietly. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

Mulder’s gaze jerked to Scully, whose back was still to him and a small smile quirked on his lips.

“Only if you’re sure…”

“Mulder, it’s totally up to you,” she said, pausing briefly before adding, “I’d like to watch it with you, but I’m not going to be offended if you don’t want to stay.”

As a response, he settled back into the couch, hoping desperately that she’d sit closer for this movie.

To his delight, she did.

#xfiles fanfic #fanfiction #rationalcashew #msr fanfic #christmas

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

A Little Piece Of Heaven (part one)

[Tour!verse]

TW: Surprisingly not many...I guess mockery of religion, specifically Christianity and anything in that branch. Very minor mentions of self harm (like one time- if you blink you’ll miss it). But mainly this fic is just psychological.

———————

Lord of The Flies

Let’s get something clear really quickly: Joan Meutas was not religious. Did she used to be? Unfortunately, yes, but after seeing the world for what it really was, after getting an axe to her vagina from her beloved husband, she has realized that there was no merciful God who would save lost souls. It was all a hoax by crazy old folk from wherever Jerusalem was to herd people into one belief, thinking that it may make them more humane and friendly. But religion has done more harm than good- Christianity damns all non CIS heterosexuals to hell, Jews got murdered by the thousands, that one branch literally won’t eat anything besides fucking grain or some shit, Catholics are just rude as all hell, those fasting things literally cause people to STARVE TO DEATH, and for what? To appease some higher being? Do they truly think they will be saved? If God was so merciful and wonderful and kindhearted, why would he make things like murder and cancer and rape and torture?

Joan even once heard that the Bible stated that when a woman was on her period she had to leave her village and wasn’t allowed to come back UNLESS she had a turtle dove. She’s never read the Good Book before, so she doesn’t know if that was true or not, but it doesn’t sound unlikely given all the stupid rules she’s heard about.

So, no, Joan was not religious.

It’s strange, she thinks, how offended people get when she says it or simply hints at it. Their eyes will practically bug out of their skull and they probably pray for her “lost soul”, maybe even do that weird cross gesture on their chest when they think she isn’t looking. They look at her as if she was actually a demon spy loosed from hell and not just someone who has enough common sense to realize that an “all powerful father” was complete and utter bullshit.

That’s the thing- it’s like the word “atheist” was purposely made to seem like the most evil string of letters to ever be created. You know the words- those synonyms that just sound much worse than the actual root phrase (molest, slaughter, moist). Atheist just has this dark shade to it. Or so religious people say.

But enough of that! There’s a reason why such a taboo subject is being brought up.

Joan was going to contact Death.

As they say, desperate times calls for desperate measures. And desperate Joan was.

You see, her queen- Jane Seymour- used to be quite the woman. Sharp, beautiful, powerful, but also warm behind the closed court doors. Joan was very lucky to see this side of her as her youngest lady in waiting, often getting called gentle pet names and sometimes pats on her head if she was particularly lucky that day. As a touch-starved orphan servant, this was like a pot of gold to Joan- love and affection is something she’s craved long before reincarnation in the modern world. And, speaking of the resurrection, Joan thought she would get even more of Jane’s “Mum Treatment” since they had more time on their hands, but she was very, very wrong.

Jane...Jane was different. She changed. No longer was she the motherly, caring, strong woman from the past, but instead coming back as some reduced version of herself- slightly younger (24, 25, maybe even 23), more awkward and timid, and much less maternal. The way she now looked at Joan wasn’t with compassion, rather...plain curiosity, sometimes even aversion. Her memory of her young lady in waiting has waned- it was as if she didn’t remember that Joan had been at her side the whole time when she was bedridden after giving birth to Edward! Like she couldn’t conjure up the remembrance of a teenager literally watching her rot away and slowly die for days!

To say the least, Joan was not happy. Add in trauma, insomnia, hate on social media, constant stress and pressure from her profession, and a severe lack of friends and you can probably see why Joan was going to such extreme measures.

Now, she knew about the stories. She’s read The Monkey’s Paw. She knows about the consequences of one’s actions. Joan wasn’t going into this completely stupid- have some faith, will you?

Gambling with Death was a risk. A huge risk that could very well end with her soul being ripped out of her mouth or her flesh being worn by a supernatural being that then goes on to commit atrocities under her identity. And not only was it a massive risk to take, it was also very, very stupid.

If I have to spell it out for you, listen closely: Death knows things. A lot of things. They don’t call him the “Lord of The Flies” for nothing. Which is why he loves to play games for those desperate enough to contact him because he knows he is much smarter than whatever pathetic, miserable piece of useless garbage comes clawing at a mirror, begging him to reveal himself. And unless you have every secret of the universe, you’re probably going to get ass-blasted back to Tuesday.

Oh, what am I saying? You won’t get a second chance.

You’ll be long gone by then.

And whatever state the cops find your body in the next morning depends on whatever mood the beast was in.

However, in Joan’s case here, she is desperate and stupid enough to take the risk. In her eyes, she doesn’t have much to live for. She’s a slave to SIX- day and night she’s working endlessly over musical paperwork and the same songs over and over and OVER again. It doesn’t help that she isn’t the closest to the rest of the cast and is often left alone when everyone else goes out and has fun. The scars on her wrists are evident of how many nights she’s been alone.

Without Jane, she has nothing to live for. She needed her.

And that’s exactly why she was sitting on the floor in front of a mirror propped against the wall in the dark theater surrounded by candles and a semicircle of salt.

Joan has done a lot of studying up to this point. She knows she has everything correctly, now she just has to get Death to appear...and hope he doesn’t immediately pull her small intestines out from her throat for bothering him.

Joan stares into the mirror as hard as she can, closes her eyes, then counted to ten. Her eyelids lingered shut for longer than she would like to admit after she hit the number one, but she eventually pried them open.

It was not her reflection staring back at her.

To be honest, Joan wasn’t exactly sure of what she was expecting to see. Some parts of her believed nothing would happen, other parts convinced itself that a grim reaper-like figure or a horned, goat-legged demon would be kneeling on the other side of the glass wielding a scythe or pitchfork. However, a suit-wearing young man was not really something that crossed her mind in her theories.

If Joan wasn’t a lesbian, she might have found him attractive, but he definitely was at a straight woman’s perspective. Perfect smile, the most amazing cheekbone structure, unflawed olive skin, neatly combed brown-blonde hair, a broad chest, phenomenal shape- if it weren’t for his yellow eyes with slit pupils, he might have been the perfect lady’s man (although, knowing straight women, they probably wouldn’t care for his demon eyes- after all, you don’t need to see someone’s peepers to suck cock!).

Joan sat completely bewildered, all of her confidence draining and being replaced with dread that drenches her like a thick, dark oil spill. She can feel her hands, which are lying in her lap, starting to tremble and clenching her fingers doesn’t help at all. The ability to form a coherent sentence slips from her mind, so Death speaks first.

“Hello, Joan Meutas.”

This guy is the real deal. He pronounced her last name correctly!

Joan opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water and Death is thoroughly amused by her sardine impression. He watches her through the glass, waiting patiently for her to learn how to enunciate again.

“H-h-hello-”

“Yes, yes, h-h-hello to you to,” Death laughed. He wasn’t directly trying to be cruel, but Joan’s self esteem was far enough into the ground to hear his jibe as a mockery of her understanding of the English language. “If I let you speak the whole time we are going to get nowhere! Pull yourself together, kid. You should see the look on your face! You look like you just got caught making out with the family goat!”

Joan’s expression remained one of fright.

“What? Didn’t you own a goat back in- god, what year were you born? 1517 or 1525? Historians paint it as both! But I thought a family farm animal was the big rave back then! I apologize- I need to catch up on the modern slang. Say, would you be considered a ‘boomer’? Because I have been DYING to use that phrase on someone who contacts me. Could you imagine it?” He warps his voice into one of a pruny old woman, “‘I wish for great fortune!’ ‘Okay Boomer.’” Death bursts into fits of maniacal laughter that sounded as if a thousand lost souls were chortling together at once.

Joan is still silent, but during Death’s monologue she was able to wire her brain back to functionality. She sits up a little bit straighter and Death notices, so he containers himself instantly, also fixing his posture.

“Ready to talk now?” He asked.

“Yes.” Joan answered.

“Wonderful,” There’s a glint in his piercing yellow eyes, “What is it that you desire of me?”

Joan gathers up all her courage, sits up a little taller, and says, “I desire to challenge you to a game of question-and-answer.”

The glint flares into a blaze of confidence. If Joan stares hard enough, she swore she could almost see the fires of Hell burning in his eyes.

“How fun,” The words ooze out from Death’s pale lips, soaked in liquid menace. “Shall I go over the rules?”

Joan nodded. She knew them, she knew she did, but it would be good to hear them one last time.

“Very well,” Death said. He cleared his throat and began speaking as if he were reading off of a manual, “Death’s Gambit: A two-player game between the Lord of The Flies himself and a human. After being conjured- just gonna skip over that process, you’ve clearly got it down, kid- and initiating the game, both parties will have sixty-six minutes and six seconds to answer as many questions correctly as possible. Anything can be asked- trivia, personal inquiries, riddles, even dares, as long as the salt circle is not exited. The catch of the whole thing is this: The Prince of Darkness is obligated to tell the truth only if the human answers correctly to his question or does a requested dare or the human manages to stump him. However, if he answers correctly or the human answers incorrectly to HIS question, he may lie about whichever question he wants. The score will not be revealed until the very end once the time is over. If the human wins, the Keeper of Souls MUST grant any one wish they have. If He-Who-Lies wins, the human will be the victim to whatever losing punishment he comes up with. Remaining rules include: The salt circle cannot be left- you may find yourself no longer in your dimension-, the game cannot be quit until the time is over, items like watches or phones are not permitted to be used to look up answers or keep track of the time. Good luck and Beelzebub be with you.”

Despite knowing this all already, hearing it out loud, spoken by the beast himself, made it all hit home for Joan. She was really doing this; she was gambling with Death.

She had to be the stupidest fuck to ever grace God’s green earth.

“Are you ready to begin?” Death asked.

Joan took a deep death and answered, “Yes.”

A wicked smile curled on Death’s lips. The candles around Joan blaze.

“The game is on.”

A dark feeling weighed down on Joan after that was spoken. The air around her seemed to shift. Her gut was screaming at her to run away, to hide, to do something other than just sit there, but she couldn’t move. Not from fear, but from sheer will. She couldn’t be stupid. Who knows what lurked outside her thin salt circle....

As he usually did, Death initiates the game and asked his first question.

“What was the name of Catherine Parr’s true love?”

Like that, a cold stone drops deep into the pit of Joan’s stomach. Of all the questions she expected him to start off with, Tudor history was not one of them. It startles her, takes her by surprise, and she realizes very quickly that that’s exactly why Death asked it. He’s trying to disorientate her right off the bat and weaken her before she has the chance to get some points in.

She could not let that happen.

It’s just that- she didn’t know Tudor history outside of knowledge on her queen and whatever is said in the show. The others certainly did talk about their past lives, but Joan- she-

It stung, to say the least, when she realized that Death knew about her nonexistence friendships with the queens. And that he was targeting that.

“Thomas Seymour.” Joan finally said.

She was pretty sure that was the right answer...but not completely positive. And, because of that, her worried mind began to scream doubts inside of her brain.

Was that a trick question? He’s supposed to be the embodiment of pure evil- wouldn’t he think Henry is Parr’s true love? Was Henry the right answer?

“Your turn.” Death said, not reacting to Joan’s answer, which scares her even more.

“What’s- why did you choose to show up in that body?”

“Oooh, you’re starting with a personal inquiry!” Death said, laughing, “How fun! And I hope you’re not flattering yourself, Joan- I don’t look like this to make your pussy wet. Trust me, I could look way more attractive, but I know you.” Those three words slither into Joan’s ears and made her shudder. “Isn’t the whole point of being a lesbian to not be attracted to men?” Death laughed again, “But I look like this because I want to. I can take whatever shape I want! Remember that one time I was a snake? That was weird. Although, peeping at a naked chick was pretty damn fun. As a lesbian, you could probably appreciate the sight.”

For just a moment, the image of Death disappears, the mirror hazes to white, and Eve appears. Not the paintings you always see- THE Eve, bare breasts and vagina and all, and if Joan weren’t also asexual, her own genitals may have been burning with desperate pleasure.

“She was a sight.” Death said, returning to view. He chuckles, then immediately goes to his next question, “What was the exact height of Mount Everest in the year 1666?”

Joan’s heart just about stopped.

How in the holy hell was she supposed to know that? Then again, that was probably the point of asking such a thing.

“Three...hundred feet?” It came out as a question, but it’s taken as an answer and Death doesn’t react except for a slight twitch of his nose. “What...is the hardest piece to learn on the piano?”

“Liszt.” Death answered smoothly. “What animal can see the most amount of colors?”

“A...dolphin.” Joan physically cringed at her answer. “Who wrote Liszt?”

Is this what she was going to be doing the whole time? Asking the King of Hell fucking piano trivia?

“La Campanella.” Death once again answered perfectly. “What is the full chemical name for the antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication, Zoloft?”

Wasn’t that the medicine Joan was supposed to take for her anxiety?

“I- I don’t know.”

Death just hummed and awaited his next question. He didn’t laugh at her like she expected him to, which slightly lightened the blow of her stupidity.

“What’s my favorite song in SIX?”

“None of them. Why did you stop taking your Zoloft pills?”

The answer followed by such a question felt like Joan was just punched in the stomach with a spiked gauntlet. She swore she was winded by some unseen force (probably shock). Her breath hitched in her throat and she seemed like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I-” She hunched her shoulders around her neck. Death is giving her a curious look, which was at least better than worry or concern. “They- they weren’t helping me...so I didn’t think there was a point taking them if they weren’t going to fix me.”

Death hummed once more, this time louder and more enthusiastic. He clearly liked her answer.

“Interesting,” He mused, then quiets himself for the next question.

“What’s standing behind me?”

Ever since the game began, Joan picked up on the presence of something staring at the back of her head. She could feel their eyes burning into her skull, sometimes even breathing on the back of her neck.

Death smiled. “See for yourself.”

Joan saw nothing in the reflection, just darkness beyond the candles and Death, and she was not about to go and look away. She was scared about what would happen if she turned her gaze away from the mirror for even a second.

When Death realized Joan wasn’t going to fall for his tricks that easily, he quirked an impressed eyebrow and moved on.

“Will you greet the worker who just came in?”

Joan glanced fearfully to the corner of the room. A figure is hunched there. The glow from the candles just barely licks at their claws.

“What was their name? Terrance?” Death said, “Doesn’t he work in lightning?”

“That’s not Terrance,” Joan murmured.

Death took it as an answer, it seems. He leans in close to the glass and when he whispers, his hushed tone is right at the back of Joan’s ear.

“You don’t want to know what he really is.”

Joan can feel a panic attack rising in her chest. Death is trying to scare her, stray her from answering coherently or correctly and get her to waste time by freaking out. She had to steer the game back into calmness.

Or, rather, however calm a Devil game could get.

“What do I have in my pocket right now?”

Death seems a little bothered that the cryptic theme was interrupted, but he gets over it.

“One black pen that’s almost out of ink, a granola bar you promised yourself you would eat, and a rosary you stole from Aragon.” He said, “Oh and, by the way, that isn’t going to protect you from me. So return it as soon as possible or Aragon is gonna be PISSED!” He laughed, imagining the storm the golden queen would cause if she caught Joan with such a precious belonging.

Joan swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to check her pockets. She didn’t want to know that he was right.

“What is the color of the sky?”

It seemed like an easy enough question, but Joan, believe it or not, knew better than to fall for such a simple trick. She wracked her brain for a moment, then answered, “Black.”

Death doesn’t react aside from licking over his dried lips. His tongue is too pointy. Joan moves on.

“Does Jane care about me?”

Honestly, the question kind of surprised her. It bubbled up from her throat from out of nowhere- yes, she had been wanting to ask it so badly, but she didn’t actually expect it to come out.

“Yes.” Says Death.

For a moment, joy bursts through Joan, but the metaphorical, celebratory confetti is sucked up by the vacuum of doubt.

Is he lying? Is he giving me false hope? Or is he telling the truth?

“What’s your blood type?” Death asked.

“A...AB.”

Like Joan fucking knew that.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Blue.” Death smiled, “Because the blue sky would always remind you of opportunities for a better life.”

A shiver runs down Joan’s spine. She didn’t like how he knew that.

“What’s something that you can’t eat for lunch or dinner?”

He’s asking a riddle. Joan bit the inside of her cheek, thinking.

It couldn’t be a food. That was too easy.

Think, Joan, think!

“...Breakfast.”

Death chuckles. Joan doesn’t know what to think of that.

Twenty minutes pass by in a blur. Cold sweat soaks Joan’s brow, dripping down her face, but she’s too scared to move from her stiff position. Her back muscles hurt from sitting like a statue for so long- how the hell does Death look so relaxed? Then again, he doesn’t really have much to worry about.

He doesn’t have to worry about the possibility of being mutilated or dragged to Hell or that that figure in the corner has been getting closer and closer as the minutes passed by.

“Do you think every human deserves to live?”

The question came out of nowhere, really. Death had been asking mostly trivia up until that point. He tittered at Joan’s stunned expression, then raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Well?”

“No.”

Joan didn’t hesitate because she knew it was the truth. Not everyone deserved to live. Rapists, pedophiles, serial killers, racists, homophobes, terrorists, abusers- they didn’t deserve life. People like them deserved to die.

And anyone who doesn’t believe that is a fucking idiot.

“Do YOU think every human deserves to live?”

Death scoffed. “Of course not.” He peered at Joan, really analyzing her for the first time. His yellow slit eyes raked over the girl, making her feel uncomfortable and violated. “You know, you and I think a lot alike. Not many humans give ‘no’ as their answer. They think optimism will make them seem like a good person. It’s pathetic.”

Joan just nodded silently.

“Now...where were we? Oh, yes.” Death leaned in, “Which queen suffered the most?”

Joan furrowed her eyebrows. The whole point of the show was to not compare, especially traumas, but...

“Katherine Howard.”

Come on- clearly K Howard had it the worst. The girl was violated by four different men before she was an adult! None of the other five stories combined could possibly rank to the fifth queen’s suffering.

“Honestly, I think the same!” Death said, “I mean- what is UP with the whole ‘one of a kind, no category’ gimmick? How stupid! Last time I checked, being a victim of sexual abuse doesn’t make you ‘one of a kind.’ Why would you even think of it that way?“

Joan nodded slowly.

“I agree,” She said, “Um- here’s my next question: Is this question false?”

Death raised his eyebrows and cooed in obvious interest.

“True.” He said, smirking. “My turn. Do you resent the queens?”

Joan actually recoils. Death laughed.

“I-”

Did she? Did she resent the queens? Surely she didn’t... She couldn’t! The queens were perfect! How could anyone ever hate them?

“No.”

Death almost looks disappointed.

“What’s worse than death?”

“You’re living it.”

Cold sweat drips down Joan’s face. It stings her eyes and is salty on her tongue. She hears noises all around her, but doesn’t dare to look. She already knows “Terrance” is on his knees beside the salt circle and his leaning his face in right next to hers. She can smell the rot on him.

“Have you ever wanted to hurt the queens?”

Death’s questions are definitely ramping up in darkness. Was the time close to ending? Is that why he’s getting deeper?

Joan shut her eyes tightly for a moment, but opened them quickly when the fear of losing sight of Death nagged at the back of her mind. Before her, on the other side of the mirror, the being is waiting patiently, eagerly for her answer.

“Sometimes,” Joan breathed, “Yes.”

Death smiles a wicked smile.

“How interesting,” He purred, then gestured for Joan to ask her question.

“Does God exist?”

“Unfortunately.” Death groaned, then laughed. He inspected Joan again. “How would you hurt the queens?”

Joan felt her stomach ache. She didn’t like that question. She didn’t want to think about actually hurting the queens, even if she’s considered it one or two times before.

“I- I haven’t really given it any thought.” She answered, then quickly sputtered out her next question before Death could comment, “Does the Bible speak the truth?”

“Of course not.” Death said. “My next question is this: If I were to give you a task, would you do it?”

“Depends,” Joan said, “What would the task be?”

Death held up both arms in a shrugging motion. “I don’t know! Pick up my dry cleaning? It depends! Don’t put me on the spot like that!” He then laughed that horrible laugh again. Once he contains himself, he says, “Time is ticking. The game is almost over. I want to switch things up before we end. I have a dare for you.”

Joan nods.

“Stab yourself in the hand.”

That flush of icy cold dread floods through Joan’s system again. Every part of her being screamed at her to refuse, there will be other offers or questions she could make up for, but she knew that was just false hope. Like Death said: time was almost up. She couldn’t risk refusing and docking more points (if she isn’t in the negatives already, that is).

“Fine.” She forced out through her teeth.

She reached for the pen in her pocket, but Death held up a hand.

“Don’t use that inky thing,” He said. “It won’t get the job done. Please- allow me.”

He flicked his wrist and a large carving knife appears out of thin air and clatters to the floor in front of Joan. She stares at it for a moment, then picked it up, setting her left hand down in its place. She took a deep breath, screwed her eyes shut, and plunged the blade down.

Joan couldn’t choke back the scream that burst from her lips. She cried at the pain, sobbing in horror when she looked down to see the knife practically pinning her hand to the floor. Dark red blood pools around her fingers, gushing and spurting like spigot from the wound when she pulls the blade free. She cradled her wounded hand close to her chest, weeping weakly.

“Very good,” Death cooed, clapping.

Joan raised her eyes slowly and Death smirked at how lit up they were, almost like hot coals.

“I have a dare for you.” Joan growled, her voice low and dangerous.

“I accept.”

“Change your eye color to blue.”

For a moment, Joan swore she saw the slightly twitch on Death’s features. She watched him close his eyes, sit their silently for a moment, then open them again.

They were still yellow and slit.

“I cannot.” He said. However, he wasn’t angry or irritated at being stumped, rather amused. “Next...what is the flying speed of a swallow?”

Joan ripped off of a strip of her shirt and wrapped it around her bloody hand, hoping it would be a good enough substitute for real bandages for now.

“African or European?”

Death grinned. And that grin only grew wider as the candles around Joan went out until only the one behind her remained lit.

"̸̡̢̢̣͓͚͖̪̼̪͑͊̈́͋̀́̾͗͘ͅT̷̼̺͈̮̜͔̙͂̋̉͋͛̈̿̀̕͜͠͝i̸̢̹̙̼̠͓͚̖̗͔̮̔̌͂̓̐̊̈́̔̃̕m̸̡̱̤̱͙͎̦̱͙̪̻̓̅͌̉̀̈́̐̄͒̌̕͘͝e̸̟̳͒'̸̗͎̞̙̋̎̓́́͑̉͐͑̈́s̷̰̬̙͖̲̩͚̥͈̝̩̻̻̮̭͂̀̐̓̑̓͌̓̀́̐̐ ̷̡̳͍̗͉̝͔̃̑͛̀͊͌͆̌̒̃̔͘̚͠ͅû̵̞̠̣͉̻̖̅̓̄̏͝p̷̛͖͎̮̖͇̬̮͉̥̲͈̟͊̃́̃̏̇̇͛͗̅̕͘,̷̢̧̧̹͈̗̝͙̪͉̖̆̈́ͅ ̸̲̩̥̇͂̓͌̀̋͗̀͛̚J̵̼̣̋ö̴̡͕̺̪̠͓̹͔̂͝ą̶̡̜̭̤͖̭̫̝̘̆̂̾̐͊̾̒̂̏n̶̛̛̬̦̥̠̮̐̓̃̋̍̒̂͐̂̽ͅ.̴̪̰̩̀͊̑̐́̂͗̍̐̈́̚"̴͍͆͛́̈́̈́̍͆̀͗͘͝͝

It was almost impossible to breathe. Joan can barely hold herself together- the tears are flowing freely and she can’t get them to stop. She would say a prayer for her damned soul if it weren’t for the whole atheist thing, and she worried that Death would get angry at her for it, even if it was said in her mind, which he couldn’t possible read (or, at least, she hoped he couldn’t).

Still, she bowed at the waist and thanked Death for the game.

“Let’s tally up the score, shall we?”

Joan first saw blood start to spread across Death’s midsection, then a sharp sting struck her in the stomach. She hissed in pain and lifted her shirt slightly, as did Death, and they both saw tally marks upon their flesh.

Death had twenty-three.

And Joan watched in shock as a twenty-fourth tally carved down through her skin right before her eyes.

“Congratulations, Joan Meutas,” Death says, “You’ve won. What is it that you wish for?”

#six the musical #six the musical tour #six uk tour #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six fic #six ff #tour jane seymour #jane seymour #tour joan on the keys #joan on the keys #tw: religion

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zenithlux · 4 years

Text

Cadence Update - 24

Catch up on the story here!

Long lost words whisper slowly to me Still can’t find what keeps me here When all this time I’ve been so hollow inside I know your still there Watching me…

Haunted - Evanescence

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

That night, the nightmares returned.

He’d forgotten how miserable each one was; an endless cycle of torture and almost-death that always ended once he’d healed again. He’d tried to forget them. He’d thought he’d moved on. But on this particular night, this particular set of dreams, he knew that he failed.

Oh Nelo…

Mundus’ face hovered in the sky above him, but Vergil didn’t dare meet its gaze. He couldn’t. Not anymore. Not when that monster was so close to him now. Over and over he chanted: It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. But that only amused Nightmare Mundus, whose booming laugh reverberated in Vergil’s very bones.

You tried so hard to escape.

Vergil hissed as shards of glass shot through him in so many places his brain couldn’t process them all. He bit his tongue, drawing blood as another one pierced straight through his chest. His lungs collapsed - he’d felt that enough times to know what was happening - and he gasped as air flooded out of him in a panic.

But this is inevitable, Nelo.

The shards retreated. His body healed. Air rushed back into his lungs, painfully filling in where the holes had once been. It wouldn’t be long until another series of something impaled him. Glass. Swords. Bones. Yamato.

Yamato… That is an interesting idea. Mundus whispered. I wonder if I’d be better off discarding your pesky human emotions altogether.

Vergil wished he could fight back. He prayed for some kind of snide remark that would prove he was still fighting. But nothing came to him but cold, hard dread. He would not survive a second break. His human form would vanish in an instant. His demon half would follow its new master. He would cease to exist.

Vergil!

Mundus growled. That foolish girl interrupts what she does not understand.

“Leave her out of this,” Vergil said.

Vergil! Wake up!

Mundus chuckled. I’m afraid that’s just not possible. But how fun it will be to tear her to pieces in front of you. Maybe I’ll start with the familiars…

“Enough!” Vergil shouted, stretching against the chains that dug further into his skin. “You will not have me.”

We shall see.

“Wake up!”

Vergil snapped upright in a panic. A yelp of surprise caught him off guard as his hand found flesh. A blast of cold smacked him in the chest. He recoiled as his vision finally cleared. Roxy hit the ground, gasping for air as she reached for her neck. A bruise was already forming, and Vergil realized what he’d done.

No…

No. No. No.

“Leave!” He yelled.

“No!” She snapped back as she dragged herself to her feet.

“I said…”

“I’m not leaving you!”

Silence fell. Kuro retreated, his energy slipping back into Roxy. The bruise vanished, leaving Vergil to stare into her furious gaze instead.

No… not furious.

Terrified.

“I hurt you.”

“It was my fault,” She said. “I shouldn’t have tried to shake you awake like that.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“It was Mundus, wasn’t it?” When Vergil said nothing, she sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“You…”

“Dia won’t be back for at least a week. She’s working with Nico as we speak and has Dante and Nero watching out for more unusual portals. Our Yamato thief has not reappeared, but the chances of them finding this place are slim to none.”

“There’s still a chance.”

“That is why we need to figure out what we have to do,” She said. “The moment Dia comes back, we have to make the pact or this will all be for nothing. I’ve located some of my father’s work, but I’ve only found some information on his transplants.” She paused for a moment then, quietly, she said, “Have you always had nightmares?”

“I assumed you were aware of them.”

Roxy blinked. “Why? I sleep pretty soundly when I actually fall asleep.”

“When you actually…?” Vergil trailed off as his gaze hardened. “How many days?”

She looked away. “Since?”

“You’ve slept a full night.”

Still, she didn’t look at him, but her fingers tightened on the blanket. “Three or so.” She mumbled. “I’ve gotten about eight hours total. I think. Maybe less.” She shook her head. “This isn’t about me.”

“If you’ve needed help…”

She snorted. “With what, sleeping? And how are you going to help with that? Sing me a lullaby?”

“You need to rest.”

“I can’t, Vergil.” There was a hint of anger in her tone, but she clearly didn’t have the energy to express it. “And I don’t appreciate you turning this conversation on me.” When she met his gaze again, it was with a soft, warning glare. “How would I know about your nightmares?”

“Aki,” Vergil said. “He’s always been there when I have one.”

She stared at him, and Vergil was absolutely positive she had no idea what he was talking about. “But why?” She muttered, more to herself than him. “How would that even help?” She went silent for a moment as her eyes closed. Vergil could imagine her reaching deep into her subconscious, searching for Aki’s soul. Maybe she would summon him. Maybe she wouldn’t. It didn’t matter as long as she got answers. When her eyes opened again, they were Kuro’s pale blue. “Aki says he could feel your distress and wanted to comfort you.” She shook her head. “I never considered that my own familiars could help you.”

“How?”

“Kuro’s magic is primarily healing,” She said. “And Aki has likely absorbed plenty over the years…” Her eyes brightened suddenly as if a literal lightbulb had gone off in her head. “I can help too!”

“What?”

“Proximity,” She whispered. “Maybe if I sleep in the same room…”

“Absolutely not. I’m not risking your life to make myself feel better.” Vergil said.

Her anger flared up again. This time, she had no trouble showing it. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I’m not an idiot, Roxy.” He said. “I saw the bruise.”

“I bruise very easily,” She said. “And, as you can see,” she waved her hand near her neck. “It’s gone.”

“Roxy,”

“Please, Vergil,” She said. “Let me at least try.”

“... You’re not going to give this up are you?”

“Nope.”

Vergil sighed. “Fine.”

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

After three days of near-perfect sleep, it was Kuro who woke Vergil up.

“Come,” The dragon said, his snout incredibly close to Vergil’s face. “Leave her here.” He hopped off the bed and sauntered away, leaving Vergil to stare at the ceiling. Roxy was asleep beside him, as her heartbeat was a gentle thump that had miraculously kept most of the nightmares away. He’d had a couple, but she’d always been there to soothe him back to sleep. In fact, Roxy had barely left his side since her promise, constantly finding ways to distract him when his mind wandered too far. And Vergil didn’t mind the constant companionship, though he was very aware that he was much less her caretaker now than she was his. But, considering how quiet the rest of his family had been (which he hoped was a good sign), she was the glue holding him together.

Of course, none of this helped him figure out what Kuro could possibly want on a morning like this. The dragon had been rather quiet as of late. After they’d been forced to give Roxy some of Vergil’s blood to keep her functioning without the extra demons to help, Kuro had all but disappeared. Roxy said he was keeping track of her “from within” (though she had sounded a bit skeptical about that). The dragon had claimed he was giving them privacy, but the two had both agreed they weren’t doing anything that necessarily needed it. Sure, the two had been more open about their feelings toward each other, but they still had a lot to figure out before anything… drastic.

Honestly, that was the furthest thing from Vergil’s mind at the moment. They’d have plenty of time to figure things out once Mundus was taken care of.

Aki appeared on Vergil’s chest and gave a series of chirps as he tilted his head in what Vergil assumed was a “what are you waiting for?”. Then, the bird ran up Vergil’s arm and curled up in the small space beside a sleeping Roxy. Vergil sighed as he absentmindedly ran his thumb along her arm. Dia hadn’t returned yet, though he had no way of knowing how time worked between her world and theirs. He didn’t have the mental energy to stress over that too.

A low growl is what finally got him out of bed, and he wasn’t surprised to find a very irritated, and rather large Kuro sitting outside. He towered a good few feet over Vergil, tongue flicking in pure frustration.

Vergil was not impressed.

“Slow as usual,” Kuro said.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, don’t bother,” Vergil replied.

“You are not ready.”

“For?”

“To be her familiar.”

Vergil’s eyebrow shot up. “It is temporary, is it not?”

“You don’t know how long that might be,” Kuro said. “What if Mundus’ hold on you does not immediately break? What if his mark remains and he comes after her? What if my power is overused in the process and she needs yours to keep her going?” Kuro’s head rose a bit higher. “You are wholly unprepared for the possibilities, and I am going to teach you.”

“I know how familiars work,” Vergil said.

“Summoning is a lot different than being summoned.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Kuro huffed. “How do you maintain balance between her energy and yours?”

“I…” Vergil trailed off, realizing the ruse was up.

“How do you keep your thoughts from flowing freely into her mind?”

“I’m sure that’s…”

“How do you keep your nightmares from terrorizing her?”

“You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” Kuro said. “Do you know how to summon yourself in any form she needs you in, regardless of the strain it puts on you? Do you know how to channel your demonic magic where she needs it instead of yourself? Do you even know what it’s like to put someone else’s safety entirely above your own?” The dragon’s muzzle was uncomfortable close now, and his voice only got louder. “This isn’t some game, Vergil. It’s her life. And I will not allow you to undo the sacrifices I have made to maintain it.”

“It isn’t my intention to hurt her,” Vergil said. “Nor am I so foolish to risk her life.”

“You’re afraid.”

Vergil’s eyes drifted closed. “Not of her.”

“Of what could happen.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Which is why I ask that you learn what you can while you have the chance,” Kuro said. “If something goes wrong, you need to be the one in control, understand?”

Finally, Vergil nodded. “I do.”

#zenni-writes #vergil #dmc #fan fiction #vergilxoc #vergilxroxy #angst #nightmares #mundus #familiar lore

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wetalkinboutbooks · 4 years

Text

A Torch Against the Night by Sabaa Tahir

Summary: Elias and Laia are running for their lives. After the events of the Fourth Trial, Martial soldiers hunt the two fugitives as they flee the city of Serra and undertake a perilous journey through the heart of the Empire.

Laia is determined to break into Kauf—the Empire’s most secure and dangerous prison—to save her brother, who is the key to the Scholars’ survival. And Elias is determined to help Laia succeed, even if it means giving up his last chance at freedom.

But dark forces, human and otherworldly, work against Laia and Elias. The pair must fight every step of the way to outsmart their enemies: the bloodthirsty Emperor Marcus, the merciless Commandant, the sadistic Warden of Kauf, and, most heartbreaking of all, Helene—Elias’s former friend and the Empire’s newest Blood Shrike.

Bound to Marcus’s will, Helene faces a torturous mission of her own—one that might destroy her: find the traitor Elias Veturius and the Scholar slave who helped him escape…and kill them both. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:

→ Geena: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

→ Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: Sabaa Tahir manages to avoid the second book curse with A Torch Against the Night, she picks up where she left off in An Ember in the Ashes (our review). Laia and Elias have escaped Blackcliff, Helene and the rest of the Masks are after them, and Darrin has yet to be saved. Everything that could go wrong DOES go wrong, but then at the same time, we get some wholesome moments in this book and overall we LOVED IT!!!

~ Spoiler-full review below

The Good:

→ Laia

Kae: Laia. Our sweet little angel. She can never do anything wrong ever in life. We love her and we stan. She has broken Elias out of Blackcliff and now they’re on the run! It’s a hot ass mess. She and Elias escape through some catacombs or whatever, and they end up at an old Veturius warehouse where Keris, Elias’ evil ass mother is waiting for them. They battle it out! CLASH SLASH SLASH! Swords and scims are SWANGIN. They knock Keris out, tie her up, and get away. But… Keris done got a little slice in and cut Elias. Now he’s sick, seizing, and passed TF OUT. So while he and Laia are on this journey, taking care of him the whole way through. Things are getting worse and Elias is getting WORSE. So she takes a risk and goes to a sketchy town to find meds for him. The destination to find safety and also rescue her brother, Darrin is going to take a long longer than she anticipated.

Geena: Kae got the start of the book really well, and like she mentioned we find out the Keris managed to cut Elias with a throwing star (lmao I THINK) which was poisoned. But Elias doesn't let Laia know that he’s been poisoned by a chemical that has no cure and that he’ll just end up slowly and painfully dying 😭 LAIA THO? She thinks of everything she can to help him, like going into a shady town full of mercenaries and killers to find him an antidote that she thinks might work. Does that backfire? Yes. But did she try her best? HELL YES. Laia makes a lot of mistakes in this book, but rather than wallowing in some sort of self-pity she takes shit into her own hands and learns from her screw-ups and I really loved how Sabaa handled her. A lot of people drag Laia down and compare her to Helene, and I think I mentioned this in our last review too that those comparisons aren’t right because:

Helene is a trained soldier, and she got white feminists antics so please…

Laia literally has had no training but she (with Elias) manage to outsmart Helene and other Masks so like…..

Anyways, I love Laia and I’ll fight ANYONE who talks shit about her. Scratch that, Elias will manifest and beat the shit out of anyone that talks shit about Laia. Like even when she was hanging out with Keenan, Elias was like ‘If it weren’t for my love for Laia I would have murdered your ass’ just because he suspected Keenan of being a snake (and he was right…). But yea, in Book 2 Laia takes command of what happens and starts formulating her own plans along with help from her companions, and she doesn’t let any backfired plans stop her (even when Izzy died 😩). When Elias is captured and imprisoned she plans to break out both him and her brother, and through quick thinking, she and Elias are able to devise a plan which obviously goes to shit but still ends up working out... So Laia haters… how my ass taste?

→ Ilyaas and the Tribes

Kae: Geena summed up Laia perfectly! So now we’re going to talk about Ilyaas and the tribes. Elias, as we all know, was abandoned by his mother when he was a baby. She left him in the desert for the tribes people to find instead of just killing him, which she deeply regrets. SO!! Elias is not his birth name. His birth name is Ilyaas, which is the name given to him by the tribes people. They are who Elias considers to be his real family. He has siblings, a mother (Mamie Rila), friends, and more, who he grew up with before he was taken to go to Black Cliff. Here is where Ilyaas feels the most comfortable with himself and his surroundings. He feels his safest when he is with the tribes. He had kept in contact with them his whole life and continued to do so even after being on the run which is why they ended up back with the tribes. They took him in and consider him family and when they met Laia, they instantly loved her. Especially Mamie Rila, who thought she had “GOOD BIRTHING HIPS” LMAOOO SHE WILD FOR THAT ONE. Anyway, when Elias and Laia show up as fugitives, they know they have to hide them. So Mamie Rila and family keep them hidden. When the Martial’s come riding the camp and looking for them, they figure out a distraction. Mamie Rila calls a big meeting during a special ceremony in which she gives a speech. During the speech, she riles everyone up and shit talks to Martials and what they did to Elias and how they are ruining society. This gives the tribal people the motivation to cause a big enough riot for Elias and Laia to book it! Elias runs into Helene during their escape and they meet for the first time in weeks, possibly months. Helene is stunned, but Elias tells her he is sorry and he misses her. After a good fight, Elias gets the best of Helene. She ends up letting them get away.

Geena: Kae really hit all the points! I really liked how Sabaa mentioned that Elias’ (Martial) grandpa changed his name from the given Ilyaas and anglicized it for Martial society (shoutout to Colonialism ha ha). But Ilyaas and his connection with his family is one of the things that sets him apart from other YA protagonists I’ve noticed, he’s genuinely a good person and it’s because he was raised in such a loving and caring environment and my hort 🥺 In this book he stays on the same trend of always getting into shit bc he’s a good guy, he’s vowed to help Laia break out Darrin but then shit goes down… The poison killing him sends him to the Waiting Place (essentially a purgatory) where he meets the Soul Catcher (Shaeva) who helps him come to terms with the fact he’s dying. Through Ilyaas we also learn about what lead to the creation of the Nightbringer (how the Shaeva helped some Scholars essentially destroy a thriving Jinn community r.i.p.). This is spread throughout the book and really enhances Sabaa’s worldbuilding and we loved it! Also, we can’t forget the rawest lines throughout the whole series which was said in this book:

“You are my temple. You are my priest. You are my prayer. You are my release.”

LIKE HELLO?????????????????????????????????????? When Elias realized he only had a month left to live and that he’d move faster without the tribal folk, he leaves Laia and whispers that to her while she’s asleep and SHE DOESN’T EVEN HEAR IT BRO?? Anyways, Elias leaves to bust Darrin out himself but things happen and he ends up imprisoned, but still manages to get to Darrin and finds out that KEENAN’S BITCHASS ISN’T WHO HE SAYS HE IS.

Kae: Also when Elias breaks into the prison he’s almost immediately caught by the Warden who experiments on the prisoners. These prisoners are mostly the scholars. So the Warden recognizes Elias from when he has to patrol the prison when he was younger. When the Warden recognizes Elias, he puts him in prison and it begins to torture him. But Elias ain’t no bitch so he handles that shit like a MAN!!! Whenever the Warden is done with Elias he sends in a little Scholar boy to clean him up. The boy continues to clean Elias up and be nice to him and Elias is like “I love this child as if he were my own. I will kill ANYONE who does him HARM and there will be MURDER.” And so like, Elias is a softie and once again, genuinely a good person that is out in bad situations.

Geena: Elias engaged dad mode in the middle of a torture chamber, imagine what’ll happen if he and Laia ever have children….

Kae: Need me a man like Elias ngl asdfghjkl. BUT LIKE. HE’S LIKE “my new son… what is your name?” And the little boy is like “Puhpa.. I have no name*insert sad eyes here*” So Elias names him Tas. Tas helps him break out of prison with Darrin. But Elias dies as they’re escaping and he goes to the Waiting Place and he makes a deal with Shaeva to take her place so she can move on to the next life, then BOOM. He’s alive again and wakes back up in the prison.

Tas: Yo wtf wake yo big ass up. I, a six year old, have been carrying you.

Elias: LMAOOO my bad I was dead. Let’s roll.

And so they escape with Darrin and Laia and the rest of the Scholars. And Kauf burns down.

The Bad:

→ Keris

Geena: Keris may not be a good person or a good mother but at least…………………………… I was trying to think of something good to say about her but this bitch really is all trash. Like she finds some sort of sick joy in killing her own son. Like, why let him live after you gave birth to him only to turn around and torture him. Anyways, we find out some interesting tidbits about how she’s in cahoots with the Nightbringer, who seems to be controlling everything she does. And we also find out that she’s planning a coup against Markus, who is the new and shitty emperor, but because the support behind him is weak Keris is like ‘This will be no biggie’. She finds some sort of sick joy in killing scholars, she wakes up and is like “I eat genocide for breakfast,” and I’m like *monkey side eye* bc who in the fuck... Like I don’t know what she was fed growing up but the concentration of hate and bitterness in this woman is too much… we also find out she had Helene’s torturer, Avitas Harper, spying on Helene throughout the whole book. Keris doesn’t just have eyes in the back of her head, she got eyes on every living surface.

→ Harper

Kae: Harper! I didn’t like him when he was first introduced. I didn’t like the fact that he was beating the shit out of Helene even though I wasn’t exactly a fan of her either but I understood that she had to do what she had to do so she wasn’t a number one on my enemy list just yet. But I hated having to read Harper whoop her ass. I mean, Harper didn’t LIKE doing it. But ya kno… Keris made him do it. Harper started off as a spy for Keris. He was assigned to basically be Helene’s second, so he was to aid her in whatever mission she was sent on , while also reporting everything she did back to Keris. LITTLE DID WE KNOW THO!!! THAT OUR BOY AVITAS HARPER DIDNT FUCK WITH KERIS. He had his own personal motives that we don’t discover in this book. So after awhile he was like “....nah I’m done with that.” So he becomes loyal to Helene. He shows mild displays of not wanting to kill anyone that doesn’t need to be killed (the tribes after they helped Elias escape). He also goes out of his way to make sure Helene eats and gets sleep and has fresh clothes. I think little things like that is how he tries to show his loyalty. He also knows that Helene has a soft spot for Elias and that she doesn’t really want to hurt him. We learned that he has a soft heart and is a pretty cool dude. He really just wants to help Helene in any way that he can. He worries for her.

Geena: Harper has always been a shady character for me, like I didn’t expect Sabaa to turn Helene’s torturer into her love interest… WHEN I TELL U I SCREAMED at all their moments I was LIKE WAT IS THIS but I sat back because I was like imma trust Sabaa. But it was interesting to read Harper be like “Yea, I’m a snake and?” and Helene just accepting it like “This is my life I guess”. But Harper wanting to emulate Elias and being like “Maybe I too will attempt to be a good human being now”... a very interesting development… Also, Im curious to see how Harper (and by extension, Helene’s) stories end… will Sabaa give the soldiers of the state a happy ending… DO they deserve a happy ending 🤔 Will they make up for their war crimes in the series finale? Find out next time on Dragon Ball Z.

Kae: ALSO THO. WHEN HELENE TELLS HARPER HE’S A SNAKE, HARPER IS LIKE “Yeah and Snakes survive soooo…”

→ Markus

Kae: So now we have skankass Markus. Markus used to have a twin brother named Zacharias. Markus killed Zacharias in the first book during the trials and now his twin brother haunts him and whispers in his ear. People claim that Markus talks to himself when it’s really him trying to get his brother out of his head. After the trials, Markus became Emperor. He is a tyrant and is killing whoever gets in his way. Markus is doing everything in his power to stay relevant because he is a very unliked by literally everyone in this society. He is a Plebeian and that is one of the lower ranking caste in this world. The Martials don’t like that someone of a lower rank is in charge of all of them so they want him off of the throne. He also has a lust/hate thing for Helene and tries to belittle and make her uncomfortable as much as possible. He also absolutely hates Elias and has ordered Helene to kill him. Markus ALSO arranged to marry Helene’s sister, Hannah. Hannah is kind of a bitch so she’s down with the shits to get back at Helene. Why she hates Helene? I seriously don’t know. In the end, Markus is like “So you didn’t kill Elias? *evil laughter* Well, since I can’t kill YOU, Helene, I’ll kill your family” so he slices the neck of Helene‘s parents and his fiancé, Hannah. He leaves Livia (Livvy) alive and married her instead. Ngl, that part made me so sad I got tears in my eyes. That was so fucked up dude. That’s when I KNEW Sabaa didn’t fuck around. I’m convinced she wants no survivors in the end lmaopleasedontdothatSabaa.

Geena: Oh yea like Markus is nasty as Kae outlined, he could’ve been Keris. But unlike Keris, Markus is a dispshit with no braincells (bc they died with his brother). He’s a disgusting human being who assaulted Laia back in book one and has been implied to have done that to other scholar slaves 🤢 AND LIKE …….. HELENE KNEW THIS……. AND SHE KNEW HER SISTER WAS TOO GOOD FOR HIM…. So, imagine her horror when her favourite sister is forced to marry him….. I guess he was “smart” for marrying her favourite sister and realizing that was the only way to control Helene to get her to do what he wanted. bUt das it.

The Ugly:

→ Keenan’s Fugly Ass. Bitchass. Manipulating ass.

Geena: Do you know…. Do you know how much denial I was in??? All through book 1 and majority of book 2, I was like FUCK KEENAN but seeing how Laia was into him I was like *angry pingu meme* LIke FINE FINE, I’ll like him because Laia likes him and I just want him to be happy. SO, I ACCEPTED THAT KEENAN AND LAIA WAS THE IT COUPLE… And like did I skim over the part where they got nasty? Kinda. But i was like okay fine, Laia loves him and he’s helping her. But then the big reveal…. THIS MANS WAS PLAYING HER THE WHOLE TIME??? HE WAS NEVER KEENAN, THE SCHOLAR REBEL, THIS HOE WAS THE NIGHTBRINGER THE WHOLE TIME??????? He’d played Laia into developing feelings for him, JUST SO that he could take the armlet that he mother had given her. Which, we find out, is an important part of some weapon that the Nightbringer needs to bring about the apocalypse or some shit. And, he can only take the weapon if it’s given out of love. This implies he was in love with Laia too, but I’d fight that bitch like hOW DARE YOU????

Kae: You skipped the nasty scene!? LMAOOO I WAS SHOOK BUT ALSO MAD BUT ALSO LIKE OKAY WHATEVER. I WAS A HARDCORE LAIA X ELIAS SHIPPER FROM THE START! But like, same. I was like “If Laia is happy with Keenan, then I’ll be happy too.” But maaaaann…

Geena: I WANTED TO GIVE KEENAN BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT OKAY, AND LIKE SABAA really subverted my expectations because usually in YA only the true love interests end up getting nasty so I was like… I guess this is it! But she was like “SIKE!!! YOU THOUGHT!!!” Anyways, I still don’t think this series should be YA but whatever...

Kae: GORL I WAS SEETHING WITH HATRED!!!!!!! AT THAT REVEAL!! I WAS SO FUCKING MAD. I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!! I LITERALLY HATE HIM. Def shouldn’t be YA. But, here we areeee!

Kae: I just wanted to say that I hate Keenan/ The Nightbringer with a BURNING PASSION. I hate when guys trick women into trusting them so that they can sleep with them and get what they want. That pisses me off to the highest degree I think it is a scumbag move and he is just a dirty little fucker and I can’t stand him. There is nothing that can represent all of the hatred that I have for Keenan. I absolutely loathe him/The Nightbringer. I hope he suffers.

Geena: Fuck dude, that’s so valid.

Conclusion

Kae: In conclusion, the Nightbringer is a bitch and I HATE HIM.

Geena: SAME! We hate the Nightbringer as much as we love Laia and Elias so there’s that. Sabaa really shows out with the characters she’s crafted from An Ember in the Ashes, takes a baseball bat, and starts beating the shit out of our emotions and her characters at the same time. ANYWAYS, please read this series!

#a torch against the night #Sabaa Tahir #Laia of Sera #Elias Veturius #book review #booklr #bookworm #wetalkingboutbooks #book blog #book blogger #bookblr #books #reading #Helene Aquilla #Avitas Harper #An Ember in the Ashes #instabooks #bookstagram

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makeste · 5 years

Note

Oh right, I forgot to ask now that you finished the Yakuza/Overhaul arc but on a scale from Endeavor to All For One, where does Overhaul fit on the bad dad scale?

somehow this very simple ask which could have been answered in like three sentences turned into my definitive ranking of the top ten Known Dads in BnHA. I’m not sure how either. but here we go

(spoilers in this post up to chapter 165!)

10. Overhaul

dad score - [unknown] [the scale broke when we tried to measure him]

is asked to care for his boss’s granddaughter; proceeds to torture her for profit

constantly tells her that she’s cursed and all the bad things that he does are somehow her fault

doesn’t even bother to give this kid some fucking shoes

keeps killing her babysitters

I know I already said it, but it really can’t be stressed enough, this guy routinely disassembled her limbs on a molecular level, causing her excruciating pain and trauma, for the sake of trying to make himself the new drug-dealing kingpin of the underworld. he is sooo bad you guys

9. All for One

dad score - 11/100

is super creepy and manipulative and purposely brainwashed Tomura into hating All Might through a series of meticulously calculated encounters

decided the best way to help Tomura reach his full potential would be to step out of his life and get himself arrested

hasn’t even seen his other son, Izuku, since he was a baby! what a fucking deadbeat smdh

but on the other hand, he does seem supportive and indulgent towards Tomura and gives him lots of praise and encouragement

8. Endeavor

dad score - 39/100

abused his kid

abused his kid’s mom, in front of his kid

you wouldn’t even know it, but he actually has other kids, whom he never seems to acknowledge or pay even the slightest attention to whatsoever!

only had kids in the first place so he could raise his kids to beat All Might. has no problem telling this to said kids and even to All Might’s own face

having said that, the only reason his score isn’t in the negatives is because as of chapter 165, it seems like maybe? possibly? he just might be trying for the first time ever. or like. trying to try. if you can count showing up to Shouto’s supplemental course to shout “SHOOOOOOOOOOUUUUTOOOOOOOOO” at him from the stands as trying. but like, I feel like he is attempting to be encouraging. it doesn’t mean he’s not still a piece of shit, but if the guy is trying to be better then, like, it’s better than him not trying, you know?

but he’s still terrible

7. Kurogiri

dad score - 60/100

Tomura’s Actual Dad

is calm, rational, polite, and a respected doctor of medicine (probably) (idk you guys I just still get that vibe)

took Tomura and all the other kids on a character-building trip to Villain Island in an omake from chapter 149 which I consider to be canon

there’s nothing more dadlike than taking your kids camping and trying to teach them how to survive in the wilderness

taught Tomura how to get along with others

always seems to have his back, which is real important you guys

6. Gran Torino

dad score - 70/100

not the best score but a C is still respectable. mostly it’s just cuz he was out of the picture for so long. although we’ve since found out that Toshinori by his own admission had a habit of pushing away people who cared about him, so that may have had something to do with it

cares a lot about Toshinori even though he’s shit at showing it

made him into a man by beating the shit out of him until he got super strong

was right there in the thick of things with Toshinori during both of his fights against All for One. he straight up risked his life to back him up against the strongest villain alive

took it in stride when he found out he had a grandson that he’d never met, and took him under his wing as well and raised him for like three whole days and taught him how to use a microwave

5. Ochako’s Dad

dad score - 80/100

I probably should have given him a higher score, honestly. he seems really sweet. he’s probably a better dad than Bakugou’s Dad tbh, but Bakudad gets the edge just for the much steeper difficulty level. because let’s be honest, there’s a biiiig difference between raising a sweet baby angel like young Ochako, and raising a sentient roman candle with a potty mouth

but he works so hard to make ends meet, and somehow he and his wife managed to scrimp and save enough to send Ochako to U.A. because they wanted her to follow her dreams and they want the best for her

and they’ve always been so supportive of her on like the three occasions we’ve seen them in flashbacks or talking to her over the phone or visiting her after the sports festival

look at this thumbs up though

tell me that’s not the most dad thing you’ve ever seen in your fucking life

4. Bakugou’s Dad

dad score - 82/100

has like two lines in the entire series, but

as previously mentioned, raised Bakugou Katsuki and somehow survived to tell the tale. so honestly he probably deserves some kind of medal

also, since we know virtually nothing about him other than what was in the omake profile from volume 11, I’ve been imagining him as being kind of like Calvin’s Dad from Calvin and Hobbes

so he gets bonus points for that positive association

really there’s no reason for him to be this high up tbh except that I firmly believe he’s a great dad and I’m just waiting for canon to prove me right. I’ll be right here waiting, manga

3. RockLockRock

dad score - 90/100

he’s awesome

also, look. being a hero is inherently dangerous. you never know where you’re going to get called to next, and any mission could end up being your last. injuries and trauma go hand-in-hand with the job. most of the hero characters we’ve seen don’t have families, and I have to assume that’s not a coincidence. so to me, all of this means that if a hero character actually does go through with starting a family, it means they wanted that family more than anything, and you can bet they freaking love the shit out of said family. I have no doubt that RLR is and will continue to be an amazing dad

plus his kid is just too damn cute

2. Aizawa

dad score - 95/100

first of all, if this was a ranking of Hottest BnHA Dads, you better believe he’d be at the very top and it would be no contest

he has 20 kids and somehow he’s able to handle each and every one of them

risked his life to save the kids barely two weeks into the school year with no hesitation, even though he nearly died

did the same thing again barely two months later. this time thankfully without the nearly dying

has the total respect and trust of each and every kid in his class. and considering the personalities of some of them, that’s no small feat

specifically, it says a lot that even Bakugou doesn’t give him any lip and always listens to him without complaint and is even polite

speaking of Bakugou, he defended him to that Jerk Reporter during the Hideout Raid arc and proved that he understands his students better than anyone

isn’t afraid to deal out strict discipline when the situation calls for it, but it’s always for the students’ own good

isn’t above trolling the shit out of his kids on occasion when he feels like it

is good with kids of all ages and not just teenagers, as evidenced by how good he also was with Kouta during the forest invasion arc

lastly, as we saw in chapter 136, he has an untold repertoire of secret dad moves just waiting to be unleashed, such as (a) crouching down to a seated Deku’s eye level, and (b) gently punching him in the chest while affectionately calling him by a nickname. who knows what other moves this man has in reserve. I for one can’t wait to see more

1. All Might

dad score - 96/100

indisputable best dad. A+. although even he didn’t get a perfect score, because nobody is perfect and there’s always room for improvement

always knows exactly what to say. despite constantly seeming to stress about it. probably he only stresses because he cares so much and he’s worried about doing things exactly right

loving father to the two most difficult children in the whole series, Midoriya “which bones did you break this time” Izuku, and Bakugou “like I said, anyone who even attempts to parent this child automatically deserves a medal” Katsuki

this man literally got down on his hands and knees and begged Deku’s mom to let him try to be the Best Dad Ever to her child. he loves him so fucking much

gives THE best dad hugs

I need more All Might hugs

honorable mentions:

Nighteye (I forgot about him until after I had already made the list and was too lazy to go back and insert him in his rightful place at number 3. 92/100. loses points for FUCKING DYING AND MAKING ME CRY)

Fat Gum (same deal as Nighteye in that I forgot about him. 75/100. he’s loving and jolly and gives out free candy, but he let Kirishima get all beat up. BE MORE CAREFUL NEXT TIME)

Vlad King (haven’t seen his dad skills in action much, but according to his profile he’s nicer to his kids than Aizawa is. okay but DID HE NEARLY MAKE THE ULTIMATE SACRIFICE FOR THEM though. because Aizawa did. 85/100)

Present Mic (not a dad. is at best a Weird Uncle. 70/100)

Jirou’s Dad (I forgot about him too lol. he’s a wacky dad who likes to rock and roll! he tried to be a Stern Dad to impress All Might and Aizawa but failed miserably. took his wife’s last name!! so secure in his own masculinity. wants his daughter to live her best life and follow her passions. 93/100. he’s fucking great)

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #kind of weird that ochako's parents still don't have names (at least as far as i know)#even jirou's parents do #oh shit i forgot to add jirou's dad lol #gotta edit him into those honorable mentions #okay there we go #bnha top ten #bnha ranking

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parabcllums · 4 years

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⧼ inbar lavi, genderfluid, she & they & he / shoot and run by josef salvat + a selfless heart hidden behind a bulletproof vest ; a highly literal warmth underneath impenetrable armor. impossibly dark brown eyes set into - and unmanageable curls framing - a disarmingly innocent face. a tiny and freshly polished star of david charm on a dainty chain, dirtied combat boots and an improbable amount of weapons hidden on their person at any one time. ⧽ ━━ let me tell you a thing or two about ZIVA ORLI MIZRAHI. the THIRTY FOUR year old ( legal ) child of NICK FURY & NATASHA ROMANOFF / WARD OF SHIELD is a PROFESSOR OF STRATEGY at paragon academy and SHIELD LIAISON OFFICER & JUNIOR AGENT TRAINER, and has sometimes been referred to as THE HIRED GUN. they’ve always seemed very INGENIOUS & ADAPTABLE, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty OBSTINATE & TACITURN, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of ELECTROKINESIS and abilities of INNATE COMBAT & WEAPONS PROFICIENCY ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh? redirect to her stats page HERE and check out her pinterest HERE.

blood is blood, and what is done is done. blood is blood, and its BURDEN is a ( beast ).

SECTION ONE OF THREE: BULLET POINT HISTORY trigger warnings for mentions ( typically flowery language, no big details given ) of abuse, explosions, death, torture, weapons

her life began when she was six years old. this is the only truth she knows, the before a distant and increasingly faded memory. she adheres to this truth, but it has always been clear to her that while she may consider as much gospel, the agency that becomes home does NOT. there is a worry, there, about all the things she doesn’t remember, and all the things they fear she will. she’s a prisoner, in some ways, a caged bird they fear could rustle up a hurricane with one beat of two feathered wings. she’s a WARD, in legal standing, the responsibility of shield.

there is a hard to swallow truth, and there is a perfectly crafted lie. they blend together for ziva, but shield’s memory is long, and good. her mother was a seamstress ( her mother was a psychopath ) and her father was a scientist ( he was going to raze the world ). they loved their daughter ( they never should have brought a child into this world if all they wanted was to create another weapon ). they came from money, and ziva never wanted for anything ( the wealth was a wonderful distraction to the horrors buried inside that cold home, and couldn’t buy the affection that she so desperately craved ). extravagant parties filled the manor with happy music and happy faces, their circle of family and friends well trusted and warm ( secret meetings in the dead of night filled the corridors with heartless whispers, and no one dared to even try and leave ). joseph and shai and all their friends were COLLATERAL DAMAGE in the tragic, but random, explosion of november 12th, 1994 ( natasha had no choice but to pull the trigger - there was no other option, nick assured her, no possible alternative, not if she wanted to put an end to the plan and save COUNTLESS more lives ). she was left without parents, without a family, due to this random act of violence that shield could not have stopped in time, and she is turned into their ward because of it, their responsibility, for all they’d failed to do ( she was witness to it all, a tiny girl caught in the crossfire of an adult war, a liability for what she knew ).

she was brought to the states, and she was given a new life - and it comes with new papers. she was a WARD OF SHIELD, unofficially, destined to grow up within the walls of headquarters, but the names of the two agents who had a direct hand in how she came to be their responsibility filled in the blanks on an otherwise sparse birth certificate. NICK FURY & NATASHA ROMANOFF in place of father and mother. whether her name was ALWAYS ziva orli mizrahi is up for universal debate. whether she really was born in tel aviv or whether that was simply the place that her new life began and the little israeli hailed from somewhere else completely is ALSO constantly a question. she was never officially adopted, nor could they entrust her into the system so that she might have been. ziva was YOUNG, and even then in psych evaluations, struggled to recall the details of events leading up to the huge overturn of her life, details that grew foggier with every passing year and in every subsequent follow up - but shield couldn’t risk the fact that she might just talk. it was SAFER to keep her nearby.

christmas with the fury’s. her birthday with the black widow. easter, thanksgiving, the fourth of july - spent with whatever agents would take her. she might have grown to resent the constant back and forth, the never belonging anywhere other than wherever she was given a bed to stay at the time, but ziva was a CHAMELEON SOUL. she barely remembered the home she had, before ( she recalled that it was cold and that she rarely left her ROOM, amongst other, terrible things - but as years ticked by, she wondered how much she imagined and how much had a basis in truth ), and adjusted to the bouncing around better than anyone could have expected. when she WASN’T spending time with other agents, or her legal parents ( they could insist that they were neither to her all that they wanted, but there was a FONDNESS formed that blossomed into love over the many years they shared ), she was given the run of shield. she had a permanent bedroom in the temporary lodgings upstairs, decorated minimally, at first, and then decorated to EXCESS. she would eat meals in the mess hall and treat it like an ornate dining room. she would forgo watching tv in favor of observing the senior agents training the juniors in the lower level training rooms. she would entertain HERSELF by learning the ins and outs of that building, one loose ceiling panel and shaky air vent at a time.

she grew up in meetings she had no place in, the clearance level she gave herself infinite. eventually, even if she HADN’T remembered the events that transpired when she was six years old, she soon knew enough secrets and private affairs to bring the whole organization, if not the UNITED STATES as a whole, down. she crawled in airshafts. she hid beneath the board room table. she sat inside of closets until they were opened and she came tumbling out. at least ONCE, she fell through the ceiling. she was a staple part of an ever changing community, and her antics made her beloved. senior agents worried about where she was if they hadn’t seen her in a while. junior agents feared the little girl that they called the ‘GHOST’, an easy dozen convinced that she really did haunt the building.

she was given the best shield sanctioned education a girl could ask for from ages six to sixteen, privately tutored and attaining a multitude of degrees in her vast amount of free time. she wasn’t permitted attend a regular kind of high school, nor was she ever really outside of headquarters, unsupervised, so the mischief she got up to inside and the studies she threw herself into were really all she had. and in between it all, she became a shining example of what a golden girl shield agent could BE. natasha and nick taught her everything they knew, individually, allowing for her to mix two lifestyles and philosophies together to create what worked for her. a revolving door of different senior trainers woke her early each morning for gym and for lessons. it made SENSE that instead of attending a formal college - as if she ever could have - shield would accept her into the academy of operations, one of their youngest and brightest. she graduated in no time.

and she was a GOOD AGENT. the very best, even, tables turning as she came full circle from an unfortunate liability to a top tier asset. she had been essentially indoctrinated, after all - so all she cared for was SHIELD. she was a weapon of a woman, pure and simple, talents shining through the most when she was tasked with deep undercover - but the beauty of her was her versatility, as capable of long stints overseas wearing a new life as a mask as she was at joining a field team and getting the job at hand done in record time. natasha and nick had taught her WELL, and she was a credit to both of them, a once in a lifetime coming together of two legends to create ONE. and she had something else, too, something that made her even better at what she did ; hope. it was her motivation to be better, each time she went on a mission. this willingness to try and work each option rather than make the tough call, this capability of seeing the good, and the good that could exist, even if it was DIFFICULT.

back then, she was happiest. she was content with her job. she was content with her life. and she had someone to share it with, too, though at first it was once in a blue moon. she met theora trevor when she was YOUNG, is what she leaves it at, now. the truth was, she was young, but she was also in love. the first time she had EVER been, considering the minimal amount of people her own age she had ever really interacted with, before. she met theora while she was on a mission, and her first impression was that she was BEAUTIFUL. her second was that she was an absolute credit to whoever had raised her - strong willed and BRAVE. she told her she was a flight attendant, and she had to leave too quick… but she came back. over and over and over again. their relationship was on and off, but that did not say anything for how much ziva cared about the woman she had began falling in love with within hours of their first meeting.

two, almost THREE years later, she and thoera committed themselves to one another for what both thought of as good. she had told her what her job REALLY was, by then, and their relationship was the first of it’s kind that ziva had ever had. she experienced a LOT of firsts with theora, in fact. a lot of things she had missed out on thanks solely to how she had been raised, experienced with new eyes and fresh feelings with the love of her life. she had never had a real FAMILY before, and knowing she could come back to her girlfriend… well, for the very first time, ziva had something to fight for. MERE MONTHS LATER, the two married.

they were both heroes in their own right. they were both busy with their chosen lives. but there was so much love and care, there, that neither STRUGGLED - not back then. this was when ziva was happiest, she thinks now. when she was married to the first woman she had ever loved. when she was juggling the life she had been given with the life that she had chosen. they had some happy times. they had some tough ones. through it all, they had each other. and then… they didn’t. things became difficult after theora, acting in her role as hero, failed to save a GIRL. ziva couldn’t understand. she tried, but her job meant that sometimes, not everyone made it - and she struggled a lot to emphasize. she wanted to be there for theora, but the truth was, maybe she wasn’t there as much as theora NEEDED. maybe she didn’t fight hard enough. she blames HERSELF, and it’s a fair blame to put upon her shoulders - she couldn’t take the toughest time of all, and they divorced months later.

work became the most important thing in her life, once again, and ziva was happy for the distraction. she never stopped being a good agent. she never lost her edge. she was too long in the tooth, now, to allow herself be shaken by personal matters, and she continued to be a credit to the people that had raised her right up until her apparent death.

it was almost two years after the divorce, and ziva was pulled from deep undercover and sent on a MISSION overseas with a tiny group of fellow agents that she had rarely ever worked with, before. none of them KNEW they had a mole in their midst - a fellow agent turned traitor, selling shield intel to the highest bidder. the mission went sour almost immediately, the whole thing, COMPROMISED. ziva stayed with them all until the bitter, bitter end. she tried to HELP. they all did, but only one survived - and ziva, ward of shield, PRIVY TO THEIR SECRETS FOR ALMOST TWO DECADES, was the only one they wanted. she was taken captive and the area was burned, and mere hours later when the extraction team discovered the scene, bodies abandoned and a familiar set of dog tags buried in the ash, it was presumed that ziva, too, had perished.

neither natasha nor nick ever believed it. in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, they stood by the belief that they had trained ziva BETTER than that. shield gave it six months and then they officially ended any searches that had continued, holding a private funeral with an empty casket for their lost ward and a public memorial for the few she had known to pay their respects at. they emptied her locker, and the belongings inside and dogtags found were shipped to the last name on her contact list - theora trevor, ex wife. they wanted to clear her ROOM, too, but natasha fought tooth and nail to keep it as it was left. they believed she was alive, and they were determined to continue the search quietly, in private. they didn’t want her to come back to nothing.

ziva didn’t know of the sadness she had left behind. she just knew the pain of what she was living. what she went through i won’t elaborate on. the methods used in order to try and break her were archaic and CRUEL at even the best of times, and the trauma she went through at the hands of her captors will never, ever be forgotten. a strong man, ziva had once been told, could withstand WEEKS of torture before he broke. in the darkness of her damp and dark cell, she - a STRONG WOMAN - withstood months. her hope died quicker than her resolve did. she told them things, eventually. things that weren’t of importance that she hoped they would think WERE. she gave them all the inconsequential details to try and help herself, but she never gave them what they WANTED. she knew because it never stopped.

when ava was thrown into the same cell as her, ziva scarcely believed her eyes - and neither did the OTHER. after everything, she had almost started to forget that she had a life, once. had people who loved her. people who cared if she came back. she was HOPELESS, but she allowed herself the smallest modicum of it, with ava’s company, only for it to be seemingly ripped away when the other was saved and she remained, moved swiftly to a new space.

this was the beginning of the end.

back home, the world had moved on, and ava shouted BLOODY MURDER about how ziva was alive. natasha and nick had known it in their bones, but with renewed confidence, wasted no time in pulling together a small strike team and beginning the search at the vacant compound ava and ziva had been held in. it didn’t take long to trace them.

when ziva was saved - if she could even CALL it that, when death would have been a kindness - she was hours from her end. it had been two years PLUS since she had been taken, and what she had suffered haunts her to this day. but even on what might have been her deathbed, she refused the shield physicians. she refused any help, unless it came from THEORA. it was as much a new fear of everyone else as it was a want to make sure the woman she still loved - who’s face had filled her fever dreams - knew she was alive.

two years and excess. all that time. she had survived, in spite of it all, and she thought that she would be WELCOMED back - or at least given the smallest shred of respect. but ziva, cleared for active duty again within six months, returned to something she didn’t expect. the legend of shield’s ghost had turned sour. senior agents, the oldest of them all and the one’s who had been JUNIOR’S when she was growing up, they believed her. they believed what had HAPPENED. but the younger, newer, current junior agents… they BLAMED her. as the only survivor of that fateful event, ziva knew she stood equal chance of respect and suspicion, but it still stung. the younger agents believed she had sold the info herself. that it was the only explanation for her being the ONLY survivor. that, or perhaps she went rogue and killed the team herself. that, or…

well, you get the picture.

the rumor mill went WILD, and ziva, in spite of wanting to throw herself back into work, discovered quickly that she was limited, now. no one wanted to be her partner, lest she be the cause of their death, too, and no one wanted her on their team, lest what happened happen AGAIN. after months of only rare solo missions, ziva requested she be placed at paragon academy - and that, as they say, brings us full circle.

SECTION TWO OF THREE: HEADCANONS ( & SCENARIOS, WITH MANY CREDITS TO BLO )

ziva: pulling some shit. fell thru the ceiling. perhaps pranked nick fury junior agent: are they gonna KILL HER senior agent: nah that’s ziva she’s just here

little junior agents, watching in horror as nick marches her into his office. natasha is called in, it’s getting SERIOUS, they’re all literally holding their breath because she has to be leaving in a body bag. she comes out with a new spring in her step and they don’t realize until much later when chaos ensues that she definitely swiped a gun from nick’s desk while he and natasha were in the process of parenting her

junior agent: where did she come from senior agent: she’s been here since the beginning of time

senior agent: that’s the ghost junior agent: is she called that because she can kill a man without being seen- senior agent: no, it’s because we don’t know where she lives or how she gets around so quickly but she’s always right there

people genuinely believing she’s a legit ghost that haunts shield a junior agent with a lot of balls: so… how did you die… did you ingest chemicals or something… did you get phil coulsoned ziva, a young demon: the x-men killed me at least two junior agents soured against the x-men because of the avengers/x-men hate: we KNEW IT

shield: falls everyone: but what abt ziva

the senior agents have a groupchat that’s called who has ziva and it’s just a bunch of messages from people sending “me”

the junior agents have a groupchat that’s just them asking where she is at any given time junior agent: i last saw her at the coffee cart on lvl 6

junior agent: she told me my outfit was mismatched shades of lack today and i cried in the bathroom another junior agent: she stood outside and told me to go pee on lvl three because you were being a baby

junior agent: last week i got trapped in the elevator for three hours because she disabled it for laughs the same junior agent: she sat on top for the whole three hours singing sweet home alabama

ziva’s known alias’ are NUMEROUS due to her many stints undercover: however, her only known codename is ‘GHOST’. it carries with it a soft sort of nostalgia that doesn’t exist in any other aspect of ziva’s life, a reminder of who she was, and who she has always been.

her electrokinesis is not the result of experimentation done on her as a child - something her parents had hoped would turn her into the weapon they sought - but a direct result of being caught in the eye of the explosion caused by one errant bullet fired by natasha romanoff. had she NOT caused the detonation of their device, the world would have suffered the consequences of her parents convoluted grand scheme. ziva doesn’t know much, but she does now this - and as nat didn’t KNOW how near she was during the event, and didn’t until she found her the lone survivor, ziva doesn’t blame her.er parents choices. ziva doesn’t know much, but she does know this.

since being saved from captivity, ziva has been… slowly working on finding both her faith, and her identity. aside from the clothes on her back and a now worn teddy that she had been clutching, the only thing she brought with her from israel to the states was a golden star of david necklace that she had scarcely ever taken off. it was tangled with her dog tags and was amongst items given to her ex wife, and if she were aware of this, it is perhaps the only thing she would seek back.

SECTION THREE OF THREE: WANTED CONNECTIONS

professor friends ! shield friends ! friends she met while working a mission! people who still ONLY know her as her cover story - a flight attendant !

people whom she is training, now, be they shield or not. she’s willing to teach anyone to feel as if she’s doing something, so go wild !

current flings she is involved in ( any gender ) ! ex flings ! whatever u want!

ZIVA MIZRAHI, our INBAR LAVI fc is looking for her SENIOR AGENTS SHE SPENT TIME WITH GROWING UP / LIMITLESS connection who look like UTP and who are 28+ YEARS OLD. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( ziva basically lived at headquarters from the time she was brought in - age six - to now, and while nick and natasha were her primary caregivers, she was often shuttled between different agents during down periods or whatnot. basically, if she for some reason couldn’t stay at shield itself, or there was a holiday - like thanksgiving, christmas, easter, her birthday - coming up, she’d be taken in briefly by a senior agent or their family and given a place to stay for a bit before such a time as she returned. )

ZIVA MIZRAHI, our INBAR LAVI fc is looking for her EX SHIELD PARTNER connection who looks like UTP and who is 28+ YEARS OLD. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( five years ago, ziva was sent on a mission by shield that ended in her capture, and since the whole team she was with on that mission was killed, it was presumed that she did too. her previous partner of almost ten years moved on because that was all that could be done, and when she returned to the rumormill gone wild and a huge amount of the younger agents presuming she had been working with the enemy / abandoned her team to death, the decision was made for one reason or another that they wouldn’t become partners once more. either it was a case of they had found a new partner they were happy with, or they believed the rumors and didn’t want to work w her anymore, or they had grieved her and didn’t know how to look at her the same - the possibilities for WHY are endless, but they were definitely one of ziva’s closest friends prior, so it would b very interesting to explore what their dynamic has turned into now! )

ZIVA MIZRAHI, our INBAR LAVI fc is looking for her PERSON SELLING SHIELD INTEL connection who looks like UTP and who is ANY AGE. you DON’T have to contact prior to applying. ( they would be a shield agent, but what separates them from most is for whatever reason - be it nefarious or something closer in line with money troubles - they’ve been selling information on shield to the highest bidder. five years ago, ziva was sent on a mission with a handful of agents she had never really worked with before, and because of information that they gave - and the fact that they, or another, heavily implied that because of her shield upbringing ziva would be the one with the most intel on that team - the mission was compromised from the get go, and while ziva was captured, everyone else was wiped out. she suffered over a year at the hands of her captors and meanwhile, everyone back home fully believed that she was dead. what they did could weigh on them, or it might not. if it’s a case of something more innocent whereby they’ve needed the money gained from selling secrets, it could even be that they didn’t realize that the info they were giving was going to lead that particular buyer where it did. again, if not, it could be because they have a grudge against ziva for some reason we can talk out or smth. i’m v much into the idea of this and ! would love for it to b taken ! so pls ! do the thing ! )

#sidekick.intro #⌜ ･ﾟ ✕ ･ * a million impossibilities broken because the universe craved her existence ― biography. ⌟ / mizrahi.#playing ....myangel again.....#legend behavior

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