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#Esp since the last time we saw him he was bitter and angry and just closed off from everyone
shima-draws · 3 years
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Part of me really wishes they’d focused a bit more on Varian’s redemption arc;; they kinda wrapped it all up in one episode and it felt sort of rushed? I would have loved to see more of Varian coming to terms with the things he did and realizing how wrong he was and how awful he’d treated everyone in Corona--but he’s still holding onto that pain and the betrayal that turned him into a villain in the first place. That sort of torn feeling between “Yes, I need to take revenge for what they did” and “No, I’ve gone too far, I need to make up for my mistakes”.
Clearly this is something Andrew could take advantage of, because Varian obviously hadn’t made up his mind yet, and dangles the “Obviously you’re conflicted about this so you can still be friends with everyone after we wipe their memories and start fresh” option in front of his face. And Varian, alone and trapped in a jail cell, probably wouldn’t have hesitated to go along with Andrew’s plan, being so young and impressionable and ready to please just about anybody. And when he was presented with the option, with the chance to be friends with the people he once loved so dearly...of course he would go for it, because deep down he’s still desperate for their approval. It’s a win win, he can take revenge and then wipe the slate clean.
By the time Rapunzel comes back to Corona Varian already seems to have fully accepted that he messed up, badly, and he wants to make up for it, but doesn’t see any other way around it other than going to the extremes again. I would have liked to see this inner conflict pushed even further, maybe with Andrew taunting Varian that listen, we’re all you have, we’re all you have to turn to, we were the ones that picked up the pieces and gave you a new purpose and if you betray us here you’ll have NOBODY, and be all alone again. And Varian knows this because he firmly believes Rapunzel and the others won’t ever forgive him, so he’s caught in a battle of morals, “Do I help the only people that actually ever LISTENED to me or save the kingdom at the cost of being abandoned again”. And in the end his good side wins over the bad, and he decides that hey, everyone may still hate me but I won’t make the same mistake twice, I’m going to make the right decision this time. And that in turn moves Rapunzel into forgiving him and knowing that he truly regrets hurting her, and that she can start to trust him again.
Another thing that they really glossed over was Quirin’s rescue;; I know the fans hypothesized for AGES what the note he wrote said, only to have it be an anti-climactic “I’m proud of you, Varian” when it could have been SO much more than that. Maybe information about the Brotherhood or some ancient secret kept about Zhan Tiri, maybe even any of Quirin’s knowledge on the black rocks and the moonstone. It felt really disappointing when it was just oh yeah Quirin’s proud of Varian but we all knew that already! And ofc that’s a driving factor to Varian’s character arc, wanting his dad to be proud, so being told that was definitely important, but there could have been more.
And I guess his rescue was sort of a let down too since it’s been building for an entire season, and then Rapunzel just swoops in and gets him out in two seconds flat and is like welp. That was easy. IDK I just think there could have been more drama around it--I would have loved to see an episode focused solely on Varian and Rapunzel, maybe they have to venture out and get a special artifact or something that works with her hair incantation to break the amber, and during that time they start to rebuild their friendship and actually talk things out fully. (I mean they kind of hit on some of those points in Be Very Afraid but not ALL of it.) They’d probably bring up Cass, too, and Varian tells Rapunzel if there was still a chance for me after all I did, then there’s a chance for her, too. And after lots of danger and perils they manage to get what they need, and by then they’ve completely mended their friendship, and Raps comments on how grateful she is that Varian’s back by her side again and it’s SOFT. And then after that they free Quirin--something that came of teamwork, something that would feel a lot more satisfying than what we were given. That would round out Varian’s redemption as a whole, helping Rapunzel, giving her advice, and taking his own part in saving his father rather than just having Rapunzel do all the work. 
TLDR Varian’s redemption felt really rushed ESPECIALLY considering how much work they put into his story arc in the first season so it wrapped up in a really anti-climactic way (and there’s also the fact that he’s such a big fan favorite so we would not have minded a longer redemption arc for him?) along with Quirin’s rescue and the note being kind of a letdown and this is how I would have made it better
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mavspeed · 3 years
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First Line Meme
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!
Hey @applesfallingfromblondehair, thanks for the tag love!! likewise i dont usually do this but this feels interesting so lets see if my ass has improved over the last few stories lmfkjgjk
also this will prob be a mix of xmcu fic + kingsman fic bc i think i have a more or less equal number of fics written for both
1.
The first time Charles meets Lucifer Morningstar, actual devil from hell, ruler of the underworld, fallen son of the lord above and god knows what else, it had been after Erik had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the highest security cell in the Pentagon. 
- this is from a professor and a devil walk into a bar, which is kinda a crossover rarepair fic that rose out of me and mutuals on twitter discussing tom ellis and james mcavoy being roommates and kinda... devolved from there. i am proud of this one lmfnjgkj
2.
“Are you okay, Professor?” Hank asks quietly.
Charles blinks. He supposes it’s a valid question. He’s been in a bit of a funk the past few days- scratch that actually, the past few years. He’s just lost so much- his father, and then his mother’s love, and then Raven and Erik and Sean and countless others. Building a school, gaining students he loved to teach and nurture hadn’t helped him in the slightest, and he’s as lost as he ever was, wandering the halls of a drafty mansion alone, feeling like he’s been stranded at sea even whilst surrounded by people.
- from in the belly of the beast, which again came out of me wondering what would have happened if fox had gone w their original plan and charles had been that last horseman instead of erik. this story will prob gain a sequel... sometime in the near future when im not too bogged down by current wips
3. 
The Xavier family hall of the deceased- because of course they’re weird enough to have a cemetery- is full of rows upon rows of holograms. Charles is four and gets bored of his father crying over his mother’s hologram, so he toddles over to the other rows. Unfamiliar names, all of them- Charles is young, and he doesn’t understand death. He doesn’t even know who his mother is, who’d died at childbirth and left him with a father still at a loss when it came to bringing up a kid.
- from tequila on a spaceship, the sequel to a fic that still has some people angry at me i think. this fic never did gain as much traction as the first one but im still proud of it esp since it discusses certain themes of reincarnation that ive always wanted to see explored for myself in reincarnation aus (and i only ever saw it in danveresque’s reincarnation au)
4.
There are cork boards covering every inch of the wall. Red strings, photographs, conspiracy threads, everything. Raven takes it in, swallowing, noticing the picture in the middle.
It’s one of Charles, when he’d been in university. His final year- he'd just been done presenting his year- end project, his fringe a tumbled mess and a bright smile on his lips. Erik had taken the picture, Charles scurrying to his side once he’d been done and demanding to look at the image, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. He looks like how Raven had always imagined him to be.
“He wouldn’t want this,” she finally says, turning to look at Erik.
- from tequila on a beach, the first fic to the fic above. this fic is v special to me because i actually wrote this on a spiral after having a very tough visit with one of my parents in the hospital after a surgery for organ removal to prevent the onset of cancer. its simpler than my other fics yet i think more powerful because of what happens. also i think the first time i killed charles off lol (spoiler alert). also idk if ppl were aware of this but this is called tequila on a beach precisely bc charles and erik were tipsy from tequila at a frat party and then went to a beach. its the way they first met (and will continue to meet for all their next lives)
5. 
Erik doesn’t know how it all started. Maybe it was when his insane sergeant had started rambling about imaginary cities, treasures of gold and cursed incantations. Maybe it was when trickles of rumours had started pouring down about the higher ups wanting to investigate unfound territory, disregard the Egyptian government’s feelings on the matter, and put a previously unfound myth on the map for all the world to see. Or maybe, Erik thinks, it was when archaeologist Klaus Schmidt put a bullet through his mother’s head and he ended up going to America armed with dual citizenship and the sole intent of wanting to drive a coin directly between Schmidt’s eyes, joining a division of the American military focused solely on guarding archaeological digs- more importantly, in Egypt, where Schmidt’s interest had shifted.
- from courting the end of the world, another one i’m just insanely proud of! this is the first time i’ve ever attempted a multichapter movie au and it actually managed to work pretty well, i at least haven’t run out of inspiration for it yet lmfjgjg. also erik as himbo rick connell... very rent free in my head
6. 
The day after they murder Shaw and leave his house of horrors, Erik crosses the Canadian border with Charles across his back. Charles had started getting tired while they’d been walking, stumbling and nearly tripping until Erik had forced him to get on his back, ignoring Charles’ protests.
The blood’s seeping out steadily from Charles’ nose, staining his shirt and soaking it through. It’s been leaking on and off, and the effects are already obvious in the dark circles beneath Charles’ eyes. Any more, and Erik knows they’ll have to find him a doctor. He hopes the nearest town in Canada has one that would be willing to treat them.
- from a world built for two. i actually dk where the inspiration for this came from, i think i was once again on a depressive spiral and wanted to break my comfort characters into pieces and put them together again. this also deals with codependency and unhealthy coping mechanisms as a result of trauma which i showed as sweet in the fic but i would def not recommend in real life. pls if u relate to either charles or erik in this go see a therapist
7. 
The call comes in the afternoon, an hour before Charles is supposed to teach his Intro to Genetics class. Frowning, Charles abandons the game of Candy Crush he’d admittedly been playing rather badly and picks it up. “Charles sp-”
“We need you, Prof,” Kitty says desperately into the phone. “He’s been in a temper all morning, and then Alex’s reports missed out a whole subsection, so he’s fired the entire marketing team! Please, Professor, you have to come immediately!”
- from and we can be pirates. i wrote this in like 4 seconds for my friend who wanted professor charles and ceo erik and actually did not expect this to gain the attention it did... its always the fics u write in like 4 seconds lmfjggj. a sequel for this Is coming too probably at some point in the very far future
8. 
Charles Xavier can admit as he sits across from Essex, hands cuffed to the desk, that in hindsight, this had perhaps not been one of his better ideas.
He refuses to admit it as he controls Erik’s mind, preventing him from lashing out and making him close his eyes to the nightmare unfolding in front of him. He refuses to admit it as he gets shoved into the back of a black pickup truck, and the butt of a gun is smashed across his forehead hard enough to knock him out cold for a few hours. He refuses to admit it when he wakes up what appears to be hours later in a cold interrogation room, hands cuffed to the table in front of him, with a suppression collar rendering his mind dark and almost achingly silent.
- from from the land of gods (bring me home). i’ve been struggling w this fic a lot (it didnt come as easily to me as the first one did) but its getting there. also i put charles through hell in this rip sorry mister xavier
9.
In the aftermath, both of them stand at the border of the mansion. The air feels frigid, slicing into Raven’s lungs like a thousand paper cuts. “Charles, please,” she begs, heart in her throat and voice hoarse. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He wouldn’t want you to do this. It’s not too late, you can come back.”
Charles gazes back, a brick wall. He hasn’t even cleaned up, still in that damnable yellow and blue suit with blood drying in the corners of his mouth, the bridge of his nose. There’s nothing in his eyes- blank, almost see through. He looks as if he’s a mere shade, a ghost lounging about where he once was. Raven knows better.
“I will raze the world to the ground,” he finally says, his voice free of any inflection, “and when I’m done, no one will be left standing. Not you, and certainly not me.”
- from where all the poets went to die, a dark fic based on what would have happened if moira had killed erik with the bullets. its the first time ive written dark charles and it was v fun if im being honest
10. 
Charles is a light sleeper. It’s a trait that stays with him- all the way from his father and the tests to taking care of his mother to Cain Marko and his fists to Cuba and then now, the dust of Washington settling over him and making the waking world lie an inch beyond his eyelids. It therefore stands to reason that the second the windowsill creaks he’s up in a shot, hoisting himself up and lashing out with his telepathy instantly.
That’s not a trait that had stayed with him. That’s a newly formed trait, bitter and bold, carved into existence by Cuba by his students disappearing one by one in Vietnam by the letters that announce Sean’s death in black unfriendly print by-
The tendrils of his telepathy forged cold and distant meet a barrier and recoil, stunned. He focuses his eyes and then widens them, staring at Erik who stares back, hidden beneath that infernal muddied magenta helmet of his. They stare at each other for a moment before Erik clears his throat.
- from in the valley of kings (you will come home). my first ever cherik fic! im actually also proud of this one even if i ended it horribly and half my mutuals refuse to read it bc of how it ended LMFJGJGJ. i cant believe this was supposed to be a funny and cute kid fic and then i turned it into an angst ridden mess. also leo is actually an oc whose adult version is fancasted as charlie rowe by me and another mutual on twitter and im v proud that readers are willing to die for the baby
11. 
Mike has to google it, finding a crafts shop nestled into the corner of the street right smack in the middle of Louisiana, past a long and winding dirt road and the crumbling farmhouses relics of a time long past. The air is hot, humid, sticking to the back of his neck like an unwieldy parasite as he pushes the door of the shop open to the sound of the bell tinkling above.
He finds the origami paper quickly enough and has a momentary breakdown about what Bill’s favourite colour even is- he had never thought to ask him. Twenty seven years of following every single footstep of his like a dedicated, most definitely creepy stalker, three months of more than a few states traversed with Bill’s laughter now echoing in his ears like a shadow that trails after him, and this is what stumps him. It takes ten minutes, but he finally settles on light green.
- my first and last entry into the IT fandom bc i love these two but to be very fair there isn’t much content out there for him (and twitter content actually intimidates me lmfjgjjg) a thousand paper cranes never got much traction either but i suspect its bc i was horrible at promoting it. also i very much love this fic even if it never did that well bc ive always wanted to write a fic like this after watching the movie in cinemas in 2019
12.
ok nsfw i guess 
Mornings start like this- Eggsy snuffling into David’s neck, attempting to work his way back up to wakefulness as David sleeps the sleep of the dead, the streams of morning sunlight gradually lightening up the room. It’s a while before he gets the energy to sit up, pushing an eager V off the bed- V for Vendetta, a kitten named after one of David’s favourite movies that they’d adopted about a month after moving in together- before stumbling to the loo. He’s already in the shower when David comes in, naked as the day he’s born with his arms entwining themselves around Eggsy’s waist as he murmurs a sleep-soft, “Good morning, love,” as he presses a kiss into the two-days-old hickey on Eggsy’s shoulder. His breath smells of toothpaste, the minty fresh kind he insists on buying from Target no matter how much Eggsy insists that the other brand is much better. Without fail, Eggsy always has a split second thought of thinking that he must truly be in heaven because no way can this be his reality, every single day, before sinking to his knees and allowing David’s cock to hit the back of his throat.
- from that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of. i genuinely wish i had an opinion for this but i don’t remember writing this its been way too long
13. 
The first time Eggsy sees her is in Trafalgar Square.
Trafalgar Square is uncomfortably packed on any normal day, but on New Year’s it is quite the hothouse. Sweating armpits and hot bodies plastered against each other, the twinkling lights overhead providing a flash of blue and green and yellow and red, screaming children and giggling teenagers shoving their way through- it’s a recipe for disaster. Eggsy doesn’t know how he ends up there. It happens sometimes- one second he blinks, sequestered in the comfort of his living room, and the next he’s somewhere else, as if he’s been teleported. “Life goes past you,” Tilde had said once, “and you don’t even notice.” Tilde would be right.
- this is a roxy and eggsy friendship centric fic that i abandoned bc i lost my ardor for this world about the same time i got into xmen lmfjgjg. all the king’s horses also had some great fancasts in it with dev patel fancasted too... rip ig
14. 
once again, nsfw
Eggsy, truth be told, doesn’t actually like having sex in bathrooms. First of all, bathrooms generally have an unsanitary air about them. Besides that, the granite of the sinks always feel cold against his hips, there is the ever present fear of being walked in on and unlike what people might say, he actually really isn’t that much of an exhibitionist- and truth be told, he’s never liked the look of himself in the mirror mid coitus.
For David Budd, however, he suspects he might be up for anything.
- from do you ever dream of me. im actually proud of this fic and this series, i never usually write straight up porn or friends w benefits and i think it worked well in here. once again didnt get much traction but that was very of the norm for my kingsman fics lmfjgj
15.
It is on his fifth meeting with the therapist on site that she brings the issue up. The elephant in the room- or the bomb , David thinks morbidly. If asked, he can’t remember specifics about that day now. All he remembers is this- the burn of Julia’s picture in his wallet against his thigh, the Botticelli painting on the far wall and Miss Paulson’s face, severe and unsmiling.
“When you couldn’t reach Julia,” she says, after he finishes describing the feeling of running to Julia, the panic searing his chest as he’d prayed for his legs to work faster so he could do something, anything to reach her hand. “How did that make you feel?”
- from your haunted social scene. i genuinely... do not remember anything about this either helpfkjgjg,,, this has 55 comments tho which. Nice
16.
David brings her home on- in a move far too cliche for it to be reality- a stormy night. It’s in fact storming so hard the windowpanes shudder like leaves in the wind, droplets crashing against the glass in a cacophony so loud Eggsy more than once considers turning the radio all the way up to drown it out. He’d gone scrounging for David’s sweatshirts instead of his own halfway through, wincing intermittently at the flashes of thunder. At a particularly loud one JB had jumped up, squeaked in a very undoglike manner and skidded across the floor to cower beneath the sofa, only coming out when coaxed by Eggsy to do so. Officer Oatmeal had watched the proceedings from her regal place by the armchair, dozy eyed and blinking heavily.
- from a cat named lavender. from what i remember this was also my first try at bringing up trans eggsy
17.
He first appears at the black prince on a cold Monday evening, eyes like Frank Sinatra and lips arresting anyone’s gaze if they weren’t careful enough. He stood out too, clad in a respectable bomber jacket and boots that clicked against the tile rhythmically and loudly, a sort of organised, measured cacophony.
“Go and serve him,” Andrew said, fat and disinterested, seated behind the counter and idly flicking through bills, less than ten percent of which he pays Eggsy. “I’m busy.”
- from trust is left in lovers after all. i never continued this which is sad bc this did get a lot of attention... it was just v hard to keep the story going
18.
It usually rains cats and dogs in London but for some reason, the rain is heavier than usual today. The droplets splatter against the windows in a constant buzzing rhythm, the sound meshing together in a melody not altogether pleasant to the ears. It’s half past five and yet the light has to be kept on because that’s how dark the sky has gotten- thunder rolls like a loud crack, abrupt and deafening, causing Daisy to jump in her seat.
“Just a thunderstorm, flower,” Eggsy says. They’re seated at the dinner table, Eggsy going over her homework while David sits opposite them, hunched over his laptop as he attempts to finish a post mission report. Eggsy is half convinced he gave up ten minutes ago- he’s got his earbuds in and he hasn’t really typed anything in a while, eyes focused on the screen. His eyebrows are scrunched up in a glare that’s too adorable for his own good- and for Eggsy’s.
- from could feel like kryptonite. a lot of my kingsman fics are actually so much happier than my cherik ones... i should prob look into that rip
19.
“When you’re done lazing around you can come in, you dozy dog,” he tells Officer Oatmeal, who butts her nose into his knee. She’s the only one not on a diet in the house, Eggsy deeming her far too healthy and skinny to need one anyway. In fact, she’s under strict instructions by Eggsy to fatten up instead.
Once the animals are done feeding- Eggsy sporting a suspicious scratch on his left forearm- they settle down to eat their scrambled eggs and toast. David’s taken a large gulp of his scalding coffee when Eggsy says, all of a sudden, “So, I have a school reunion.”
- from gonna set this dance alight. don’t remember much about this either tbh
20. (the last one FINALLY)
It isn’t a big event or explosion that makes David realise he wants to see his father’s ring sitting pretty on Eggsy’s index finger. No teary confessions in the rain like in the rom coms Eggsy loves to rent out and sniffle his way through, or a fight that makes David see sense. In the end, it’s breakfast that cinches the deal for him.
The day had started out normally enough. David wakes up at eight like clockwork, the soft downy hair at the base of Eggsy’s neck tickling his nose with his arm locked tight around his waist. He’d yawned, exhausted- mostly because they’d stayed up very late into the night making good use of the bed- before standing up and shucking his shirt off to head for the shower. Eggsy had shifted in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and the sight had been too endearing to resist so he’d bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead and smiling when Eggsy groaned out loud.
- from lover boy rules. i actually started a lot of my kingsman fics in the same way which is rather awful of me. im glad thats changed with my xmen fics lmfjgjk. also this has 15 comments???? i dont even get that much attention with my xmcu fics these days... which is arguably a more active fandom... Hello
anyway that’s the end of it needless to say i do not know 10 other authors so im just gonna tag whoever i know rn: @hellfre , @queerneto, @ikeracity, @drinkingstars, @zebraljb
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lundiivith · 4 years
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(i can say i) did it all with love
more reposting stuff i posted months ago to ao3 on tumblr because... unfortunate situations. anyways
here’s a 7.5k words miraak oneshot backstory fic ft vahlok the jailor. read it on ao3 or under the cut!
warning for, uhm... mild/not-very-explicit gore, couple deaths (esp. of family members), eye trauma, fire, a cult, the works. one implication of boarding school-style child ab/use. yeah. not a happy fic
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mid-aar; “loyal servant”.
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The man held his midsection as tightly as humanly possible. Forced onto his knees by all-too-mortal injury, proud Miraak looked up, defiant in the face of destiny. In that momentf, Midaar was struck by familiarity; but to what, exactly, he didn’t know.
The wind howled as the sun rose. Or fell. Midaar wasn’t sure.
The snow under Miraak was red, as were his clothes. Liquids leaked from his wounds, not all of them blood -- like an ugly, pale acid that left burn-marks on his fingers. The man himself was shaking in agony, and yet, he still raised his shoulders and tried to move. He made a noise and persevered. He’d see this to the bitter end, Midaar knew. It was what his friend always did.
...He was a traitor. He was his friend no more.
(When had he stopped being the man Midaar had known all his life? When had Miraak stopped being the person Midaar had befriended; when had he instead been captured by greed, by an otherworldly spirit’s smoky promises? Had Midaar taken his eyes off him for too long, for just a moment--?)
“You know I expected better of you, Miraak.” Midaar’s voice was icy.
Miraak laughed, a gross wet chortle. “Of course you did.” He tried to laugh as he started coughing, and then he kept coughing. Miraak crawled further, maybe an inch. His free hand held onto the ground, carving the snow as he went; droplets of hot acid smoked as they hit snow. He raised his mask just a little bit and uncovered his mouth; Miraak then stared defiantly upwards, into the slits of Midaar’s mask, and retched blood onto his feet.
Midaar waited for him to finish. Once he did, he knelt and with almost no resistance grabbed the back of Miraak’s head, and he smashed it into the ground once, twice, three times, careful not to let his body shake. Midaar then kept Miraak’s face pressed against the ground, teeth against the cold, and spoke.
“Looking back, it’s obvious. You were always too independent. Too bright, too clever for your own good. You were naïve, Miraak, to think you could best the dragons.”
Miraak grunted something against the snow. He was shivering, burning. Crashing.
“What was that?”
The traitor twisted his head, freeing his lips. “I bested twenty.”
Midaar froze for a moment, horrified, iracund, disgusted, and then replied, “And look where you are now. Dead by the hands of a man.” His chest felt empty. “A man who used to be your friend, Miraak,” he whispered (was he pleading?). “Why did you do this?”
Miraak’s breaths were more and more shallow. He didn’t look at Midaar. “Does it matter?”
“Not to our lords, no.” But you can tell me anyways.
“Then I’ll take it to the grave.” Miraak smiled, wicked and bitter and angry and small. Bloody vomit trailed from his mouth, tears (of pain?) stained by ice and mud. “But I can tell you one name,” he then added. “Kᴀʜᴠᴏᴢᴇɪɴ.”
“...Who?” Midaar blinked, taken aback.
Miraak grinned wider. “Ask the dragons.”
And then Miraak Shouted,
F̬U͍̞̬̰͉̞͖S̜̻ ͙̩̣̱͉̱RO͍ D̪̗̩A͔̙̳̗͍̭̠Ḫ̬̹͈ͅ!̠̺̭͍
The world, for lack of a better world, shook.
A void of ink appeared around Miraak; Midaar only realized he’d fallen once the ringing in his ears began. He could feel a trail of -- blood? -- from his ear. He watched as the ink swallowed Miraak. He thrashed, surprised, and Midaar saw it all, saw him disappear, ( “MIRAAK!” ), saw him gone. He threw out his hand, and Miraak struggled to catch it and failed, his eyes suddenly huge and dark and dark and dark and Midaar’s ears kept ringing --
-- and as Midaar watched, the continent broke.
The wave, the huge dark wave of sea-salt and foam was the last thing the dragon priest saw that day.
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The boy waiting on the stairs was pretty excited about joining the ranks of the Dragon Priests, all things considered.
He glanced back at the big door and then decided to wait for the Priest who’d welcomed him to come back. The boy didn’t know how old the ma was, but he was a grown-up and he was a Priest and he’d said his name was Vo-something maybe and that he should wait outside until he came back and the boy’s new name was called and then the door had closed and dawn was coming and he’d been waiting for hours, now, and his legs were getting kind of tired.
He watched the people around Labyrinthian. There were also a few dragons, but the boy didn’t find himself caring about them too much. Oh, sure, they were huge and good and stuff, and they sure seemed to be watching over the people wisely and stuff, but the novelty had worn out hours ago and the boy liked people, anyways. Simple dumb people. He found them funny, and fascinating, going around places doing everyday stuff. There was a Dragon Priest talking to a few workers. One of them was a nervous woman who kept shuffling from one foot to the other. The Dragon priest then said something to the nervous worker, and she jumped in place and stared wide-eyed at the maybe Dragon Priest and then began glowing, like straight-up glowing and smiled real wide and gave the priest a short bow and left really fast. The boy smiled. The priest then talked to the other two a bit more, and the boy looked away.
He kept watching as the sun rose, light bouncing off the snow, and he was definitely not scared when a big dragon walked close enough to the entrance to make the entire stone platform shake with his weight. He remembered something his father had told him once, about big things and dragons maybe, and then he remembered that he wouldn’t see his father for a really long time and he felt a little sad. He didn’t know why, though, because being a Dragon Priest was the best thing you could aspire to be, and you got to talk directly to the dragons and change things about Skyrim if they listened to you, and it was much better than the farm and he wouldn’t have to share everything with five siblings.
His thought process was interrupted when he saw a small child by themself.
“Hi,” he told the younger kid. They were maybe four, so definitely younger than the boy, who was eight and three months and five days. “What’s your name? I’m, uh,” and then he stopped because he realized he’d abandoned his old name and he didn’t have a new one yet.
The kid turned around. Their eyes widened for a second when they found him, but they shook their head and stood up straighter. “Hel-lo,” they said, very serious. Little kids usually were annoying, the boy thought, but maybe this one wouldn’t be as bad.
“What’s your name?” he asked, curious.
“...don’t have one.” They seemed… embarrassed. “Had an old one. It was dumb.”
“Are you here to be a priest?”
“...yeah.”
“Me too.” The boy thought for a moment. “Maybe we’ll get matching names. Since we were in-duc-ted on the same day.”
The kid’s eyes filled with tears, suddenly. “No!” they yelled. The boy leaned backwards, a little surprised. They stomped and then started flailing their arms, angry. They yelled for a bit, before shouting out, “I don’t wanna share my name!!”
“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!!” The boy covered his ears as the kid started wailing. He groaned. Nevermind on them not being annoying! He hated little kids sometimes.
He remembered his baby brother Eluf’s screaming when he wasn’t allowed to pet the chickens. Then the boy remembered he wouldn’t see Eluf for a while and felt… sad. He froze for a moment and didn’t realize he’d dropped his hands until the kid had tugged on one of them.
“Why are you sad?” the kid asked, blunt.
“...it’s nothing.” He raised his shoulders, defensive, but the kid just tugged on his arm again. And then again. The boy huffed. “...I miss my little brother.”
“Oh.” The kid thought for a moment. “Was he nice?”
“He was. He liked to hug everyone. Even the chickens, but he scared them, because he hugged them too tight, and he didn’t know he was scaring them.” There was a ton of other stuff to say about Eluf, but the boy right now could only remember his little brother skinning his knee on the dirt path to the coops while chasing a very shy hen, crying like little waterfalls from his eyes.
The kid stared at him for a moment. “How did he not know?”
“He was a little kid. He didn’t know better.”
The kid then started thinking. And they thought loudly, humming out-loud. “Can grown-ups don’t know, too?”
“I don’t know. I guess?”
“Oh.” They paused. “Thank-you.”
“...It’s no problem.”
A little bit afterwards, the doors opened -- and their new lives began.
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Midaar awoke slowly, unsure.
The first thing he saw was a high stone ceiling. The second thing Midaar saw after Miraak’s death was a healer.
(Miraak’s death. Miraak’s death. Miraak was gone.)
He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the blurry shape by his side.
“Sleep, my lord,” they whispered. They touched his forehead for a moment (was he running a fever? He didn’t feel hot) and then, seemingly content, tucked Midaar further into bed.
“What day is it?”
“It’s been three days since your duel with… him,” the healer looked behind themself, alert, then slowly returned their gaze to him. “You were lost for a day. A wave dragged you onto the beach on the second day, my lord Jailor. You were unconscious and had a fever, in addition to multiple bruises and graver wounds.”
“Solstheim. The land…”
“It broke,” the healer interrupted him. “Solstheim is… an island, now. It drifted northeast from the mainland, my lord.”
“...I see.” A blurry thought made its way through Midaar’s mind. “...Why are you calling me your lord?”
“You’ve been made governor of the island for the time being, my lord.” The phrase had been blunt, simple. A punch to the gut. Midaar’s chest went hollow.
“Oh.”
He turned around and fell back asleep.
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Years earlier, one late afternoon, Midaar found him staring off into the distance.
His friend looked thoughtful. He hadn’t even noticed him; Midaar had an opening. Nice. He looked at him for a moment, hesitated perhaps? -- and then punched his shoulder hard enough to bruise.
“FUCK!,” was his victim’s first last words, followed by “OW! What is WRONG with you, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ?!”
“Payback, you twerp.” Midaar ruffled his hair and grinned at his scowl. “What are you thinking about, Miraak?”
Miraak huffed, rubbing his wounded shoulder. “...Many things,” he said.
“You can tell me.” Midaar sat down on the cold ground and patted the snow right beside him. He raised a quizzical eyebrow towards Miraak from behind his brand-new mask. Miraak sighed and sat down. He stared away from Midaar, silent, head tilted like the few birds that came to Solstheim in the summer.
“Come on, Miraak. I’m not gonna become a snitch just because I’m a priest now.”
“...it’s not like I think you’ll tell on me,” Miraak began, doubtful. “And it’s not like it’s a bad thing.”
Miraak was silent for a moment.
“One day, I will rule this land.”
“Huh?”
“When I finish my training, I will be part of the High Council of Dragon Priests.”
Miraak always had replaced his want-to’s with will’s. “You’re confident in this, then.” At Miraak’s unimpressed glance, Midaar rolled his eyes. “That’s good, Miraak. You’d be a great councilor.”
“You say that because I’m your friend,” Miraak noted dryly. “But it’s no problem. You will be a councilor, too.”
“What?”
“You’re a great leader, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, and you excel at worshipping our ᴊᴜɴ. You might even be heard by them, one day.” Was it just him, or were there hints of bitterness in his voice? Of anger? Did he think he wasn’t worthy of being heard by the dragons one day, when he’d already surpassed Midaar in all his studies of the thu’um? No.
“Miraak. Listen to me.” Midaar grabbed him by the shoulders and physically turned Miraak around, and Miraak yelped. Midaar pointed at Miraak’s chest. “You,” he told him, “will be heard by the dragons more Loudly than I ever will, and this is a promise.”
Miraak’s eyes widened as he heard Midaar’s words, but then his face fell. He looked away from Midaar, clearly angry. He glanced once more towards Midaar and then his face softened, maybe in acceptance. Midaar let go of him.
“Thank you,” Miraak said. His voice was empty, his words a mere courtesy. Had he said something wrong?
“You’re welcome,” Midaar replied, and he looked back towards the sunset.
They both stayed like that for a moment, watching the sun go down at the end of a day that had started fast and lasted long, and Midaar thought not of ink-black or mold-green but of red, red, red, like the blood that ran along his veins, if not Miraak’s too.
The dusk was cloudless. No storm came that night, nor the next, nor storm for years to come. But one day it would come, and it would water some interesting seeds.
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The next morning after he woke up, when Midaar was well enough to stand, the dragons came.
The Priest was called outside early. He was still recovering from the fight, sleeping far too much and being only woken up for things of extreme importance -- such as this. He’d gone outside in the snow barefoot but masked, wearing the pants and loose shirt he’d slept in and a fur cloak, jaw dropped to the floor at the dov that perched on the roof and ground before him.
Midaar recognised most of them. There were many dragons he’d either seen around or had spoken to a few times; Sahrotaar, Krosulhah, Relonikiv, Kruziikrel. Most surprisingly of all, however, was that they were led by the dragon Paarthurnax, the Dovah-jun Alduin’s lieutenant, who Midaar had only seen once in brief passing. He started… he didn’t know if he was shivering from cold or shaking from awe, but it was likely both. The sky was a light blue, and Paarthurnax, perched on top of the temple, was staring at him.
“Mɪʀᴀᴀᴋ Dɪʟᴏɴ,” the gray dragon began. Miraak is dead. It wasn’t a question.
“He has… disappeared. It is likely he is dead,” Midaar explained.
“That is enough. As long as you are ready to kill him again, if he comes back.” Paarthurnax stood perfectly still, his head tilted just slightly to the side, and Midaar realised.
He nodded slowly, thoughtful. “Yes, my lord.”
“But Solstheim is an island, now,” Paarthurnax continued. “And it is too small for ᴅᴏᴠ to reside comfortably in. Nᴜ ᴍᴜ ꜰᴇɴ sᴘᴀᴀɴ ɴɪɪ.” Yet we have to protect it. “So we have decided that that shall be your reward for slaying Mɪʀᴀᴀᴋ.”
Midaar went still under the morning sunlight and broke eye contact, just for a second, to nervously glance away. He looked back at Alduin’s lieutenant. “What shall?”
“You will ʀᴇʟ over Solstheim,” Paarthurnax told him. Reign. “You will ward ꜰɪɴ Lᴇɪɴ from his influence.” The world. “And you will also wield a new name, a new title; one befitting your new position.”
“I am profoundly honored, my lord.” He was. (He wasn’t).
“From now on,” Paarthurnax continued, perched above the Solstheim temple, his face tired and cold and hard, “you will be known as Vᴀʜʟᴏᴋ, and you will guard the island of Solstheim.”
Midaar… Vahlok fell to one knee. “I am so profoundly honored,” he begun, and then he started coughing.
Saltwater and blood fell from his mouth as the dragons watched, impassively, and he felt somehow so incredibly desperate to escape this coughing fit he started worrying this was the proverbial straw and the world’s back was about to be broken. He closed his eyes, hoping against everything the dragons would not see this as weakness.
When he was finally able to open his eyes, he saw the consequences of his actions; disgusted, definitely, all of the dov gathered had flown away, their wings like thunder on the too-far blue horizon. All of the dov but one.
Paarthurnax stood, an undeniable shape the color of envy, before Vahlok.
Vahlok looked up, worshipful but hesitant. “My lord Paarthurnax,” he began. He paused for a moment, to think. Should he heed his last words? He was a traitor, of course, but he was Midaar’s friend. He was clever, and inquisitive, and hungry for knowledge in a way Vahlok had never seen anywhere besides him -- and was yet strangely familiar. He was… He’d been. His friend was dead, he reminded himself, whether or not his heart kept beating. And that helped rationalize his actions, at the moment and perhaps later, because he was honoring his dead friend’s memory, and that was something no one could take away from the mortal.
“...Yes,” Paarthurnax said, clearly confused about the long pause after Vahlok’s words.
“My lord Paarthurnax, I… I wish to ask for something.”
“Have we not given you enough?” Paarthurnax huffed through his nose, clearly annoyed, but his sentence had no bite. Vahlok decided not to question his luck.
“Of course you have, my lord. I just wished to know of a dragon. To… congratulate him, or at least speak to him.” Before Paarthurnax’s watchful eyes, Vahlok shrunk a bit. “Miraak mentioned him with hatred,” Vahlok added, and Paarthurnax snapped to attention.
“Vᴏᴛʜ ɴɪ…?” Paarthurnax stopped there. Midaar waited, to see if he’d continue, and then spoke.
“Yes, my lord. And -- and I just wished to perhaps see him. To see what role he might have played, perhaps… to warn other priests not to fall into the same traps as Miraak did.” He was only half lying; as he spoke, those became his intentions, his ambitions, and while he didn’t forget Miraak’s words, he wanted with all his heart to believe he didn’t care about them.
“...Wᴏ?”
“The dragon Kahvozein, my lord.”
The frills and spikes that dotted Paarthurnax’s face and ran along his spine bristled for a moment. “...Kᴀʜᴠᴏᴢᴇɪɴ,” he stated, thoughtful. “I… have not seen him in a long time.” He shook his head, and the shaking went as a shiver down his back and to the tip of his tail. Paarthurnax then lowered his head, staring right into Vahlok’s eye. “You cannot see him.”
Vahlok took a step back, then another. “My lord,” he said, simply.
“If he has…” Paarthurnax began, and then sighed.  “Rᴏ ʟᴀᴀɴ Aʟᴅᴜɪɴ ᴡᴀʜ ᴏꜰᴀɴ ʜɪ ᴀᴀᴢ, ᴀʜʀᴋ ʜɪ ʀᴏ ɴɪ ʟᴀᴀɴ ᴅᴀᴀʀ. Jᴏᴏʀ sᴀʜʟᴏ -- ꜰᴏᴅ-ᴅʀᴇʜ ɴɪ ʟᴀᴀɴ ᴍᴜ...*"
Vahlok looked at the dragon. Slowly, the realization sunk in that he would not be allowed to find answers, that his request would be forever denied. That he would not be able to prevent his greatest failure. That he would not be able to mourn his brother. His face felt foreign all of a sudden, his bones distancing themselves from his nerves. A perfect poker face crept onto his features. Midaar looked away for a moment, then looked back into the dragon’s eyes, hardened by resolve.
“Of course, my lord,” he found his lips saying, independant. “Forget I ever asked.”
Paarthurnax paused for a moment, then looked at Midaar, his face tired and cold and hard, and nodded once before leaving -- with the beat of his wings like a punch to the gut.
Midaar turned around, and remembered, offhandedly, that the healer had told him the next ship towards the mainland would be lifting its anchors tonight. He wondered… he’d been masked for so long. Had the metal blinded his mind, or had it only changed his face?
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“On three,” Miraak told him, dead serious. Midaar stared at him in sheer disbelief, but breathed in deeply and prepared for Miraak’s ridiculous request. “One, two…”
“You two, stop immediately.”
Midaar froze.
He slowly, slowly turned his head around, never letting go of Miraak’s shirt’s collar. He lowered his fist, and missed Miraak stealing a glance at how it shook.
At the door’s frame stood the priest Geinmaar, his mask a cruel caricature of a grimace. His shoulders were tense, and his hands were balled up into tight-knuckled fists. Midaar flinched.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing, sir,” he said, at the same time as Miraak replied, “Training, sir.”
“Training?” Geinmaar asked, dryly. He didn’t wait for an answer before oh-so-slowly walking over to the two. Midaar’s hands shook. “What kind of training begins half past midnight?”
“Urgent training, sir,” and Midaar looked at Miraak, eyes wide. What a bold-faced lie.
“I don’t believe you, Miraak.” Geinmaar crossed his arms behind his back and leaned over him. Midaar tried to hold his breath, but it went by far too fast.
“See, sir, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ had slacked earlier today.” Midaar gaped openly at Miraak. The little-- “And I graciously offered to help him. However, he didn’t relate the information until just recently, and we’ll be tested on our hand-to-hand combat abilities soon, so it was urgent.”
“I see.” A wicked gleam shone through the older man’s eye. “But,” he added, “if that is the case -- then why are you offering no resistance?”
“Uh,” Miraak stuttered, his brain visibly trailing off. Midaar glared at him.
“Sir, if I may,” Midaar told Geinmaar, voice trembling as he went, “Miraak had told me he was afraid of being unable to stay conscious after being punched. To the extent of nightmares, sir.”
“...Really,” Geinmaar said. His voice was distorted by his mask’s metallic shape, echoing oddly into something far more threatening than a mere human voice. Midaar hated it.
“Really, sir,” Miraak answered, smoothly continuing his performance.
“...Well. If that is all.” The priest tilted his chin up, disdainful. “But if another noise complaint comes my way, you’ll both be in very serious trouble.”
The dragon priest then turned around and left the room.
Midaar sighed with relief. “By the Lord Alduin,” he whispered, “that was close.” And he shook his head. “Why are you even asking me to punch you?”
“To prove a point to you, obviously, since you don’t trust any pain I may inflict on myself anymore.” Miraak sighed. “Just do it.”
The resounding punch echoed on the stone walls. Midaar made a noise, head flooding with possibilities -- would Geinmaar come back? Would he hit them? Shit.
“Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ,” he heard, and then a single hard shake of the shoulders. He focused. Before him was Miraak, still held by the neck of his shirt, nose bleeding from the hit -- and before Midaar’s very eyes, the blood stopped flowing barely seconds after beginning to gush.
“...Oh,” Midaar said.
Miraak wiped his face. “As I was telling you,” he continued, and then he paused to pull away from Midaar’s grasp. “As I was telling you,” he repeated, “I’m stronger, and heal faster…”
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Vahlok’s footsteps on the echoing chamber were nearly silent. The high stone ceilings, fit for a dragon, held for him the same meaning as a night devoid of stars. He hurried up. The cold air felt strange on his face; it had been far too long since he’d been maskless outside of his own chambers.
When he finally finished crossing the grandiose hallway, the last one in a series of tunnels best left unremarked upon, he found himself before an arch. A curtain was draped over said archway, a thick piece of purple cloth Vahlok quickly pushed away. On the other side -- and he remained on this side of the archway, only looking -- on the other side was a room Vahlok had never seen before. Decorated with more of these thick purple curtains -- all hanging from the ceiling, tall as the mountains -- and entirely lit by candlefire -- including a few dangerously close to the cloth --, a stage stood in the middle of a room, and on it a slab of rock like a table. One side of the room had another platform, higher than the one in the middle, and he couldn’t help but note it seemed the right size for a dragon to lay upon.
He was wondering whether to continue or to stay where he was when, suddenly, a few of the curtains were pulled aside. Chatter filled his ears. Dozens of men and women, all in robes and hoods, made their way around the stage. Their footsteps echoed against the stone floor. Vahlok stood still, as silent as he could, and closed the curtain nearly all the way. Only a sliver of an opening remained, mostly so he could see. He held his breath.
A thunderous noise. Vahlok froze in place, unable to move even if he’d wanted to, before the very sight: a gigantic purple dragon, with wings spotted white, had appeared from behind one of the curtains. The dragon settled on top of the taller platform and languidly raised his head. Soon, a hooded mortal scurried across the multitude, holding in their wobbly arms a shaky bronze tray full of what looked like enormous chops of raw meat. They climbed onto the smaller, central platform and placed it upon the larger platform, then bowed deeply and stood in place, shaking. The dragon inspected the tray with one compound eye. The mortal shivered. The dragon then, simple as the act of breathing, stretched forwards just enough to bite onto the mortal, grabbing their body tightly with his teeth, before launching them upwards -- and as gravity forced the body onto a downwards momentum, the dragon opened his maw to rip the body messily in half. Blood rained across the people around them. Vahlok watched, silent, as they cheered the dragon on, screaming in joy as their robes were covered by blood.
After the screaming lulled to an end, one of the curtains was pulled. A dragon priest appeared from behind it, followed by three people. Vahlok didn’t recognize her, at least not at a distance. Out of three people behind her, two were wearing armor and hoods, and were dragging the third across the floor in chains. The multitude parted like an impossible sea as the woman walked up the steps to the central stage, followed by the two ...guards? and their prisoner, the only one not wearing a hood. His head bumped on the steps. Vahlok could gleam from his position that he was a man with longish auburn hair, his face streaked with warpaint, but not much else. The man was led to the stage and then thrown on the table in the middle. He fell unconscious. The Dragon Priest dismissed the guards with a gesture, and they hurried down into the multitude as she began circling the chained prisoner.
There was a gleam of metal. Vahlok watched as the Priest produced a sharp, curved bronze knife, somewhat resembling a dragon’s tooth, from the folds of her clothes. She stopped before the dragon and gave a deep bow, placing the hand that held the dagger behind her back.
“Kahvozein, my lord,” she said. “I bring to you this sacrifice, only just captured -- a rebel against the glorious regime.”
The dragon chuckled, a deep laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the chamber. “A traitor, you say?” he said, his teeth bared in an approximation of a smile. “Do you all ʜᴏɴ these words?”
The audience broke into a hellish sort of noise, fueled by pure hatred. Mere inches behind one, Vahlok stifled his breathing, trying his damndest to not be caught. His mind had crawled to a stop at about a thousand miles an hour in mid-flight. The multitude screamed vile words towards the rebel, spit out their darkest curses and cursed him down to his earliest ancestor as the man regained bleary consciousness. The rebel realized what his situation was all of a sudden and began struggling against his bindings. Vahlok watched, mesmerized, as the Dragon Priest walked up to his face and gave him a resounding slap that echoed through the room; the man visibly gave up on freedom as soon as his cheek hit the table. He whimpered.
The Priest placed her hand on the man’s chest. “Well, well, well,” she said, “weren’t you a hunter before you fell? I wonder if you were good with the bow.” She chuckled and lifted the knife, placing it under one of the man’s eyes. He screamed, muffled by a cloth gag, and she just shook her head. “Now, now,” she added.
Before he saw something he wouldn’t be able to unsee, Vahlok violently averted his gaze from the spectacle, instead focusing on the candle closest to a nearby huge curtain. He heard muffled screaming. The candle seemed dangerously close to the curtain. The audience held its breath. He looked into its flame, burning a white smear into his gaze. He didn’t think about the wet, ugly noises he could hear coming from the room, until --
“And now,” the Priest said, “perhaps the other one.”
Perhaps not, Vahlok thought, and he kicked the candle onto the cloth.
The fire spread in huge, sudden bursts, consuming the curtains hungrily. The mortals gathered started screaming. The dragon stood up, glared from side to side as smoke began filling the room, then roared; useless, because Vahlok had hidden behind the archway’s side once again. He heard hundreds of footsteps storming out of the room, hid in the darkness behind the archway as people poured out of the chamber through his very own archway, and then suddenly, on impulse, slipped inside the chamber and ran towards the stage.
Vahlok hurried through the crowd, being bumped around and almost ran over, before he reached the stage. It’d been deserted by the Priest, but the rebel remained bound on the table, sobbing hysterically. Vahlok hurried up and produced a lockpick, thanked Miraak for teaching him how to break locks. Thanked Miraak… oh, he’d have time to thank Miraak for everything when he was back on Solstheim. He clumsily opened the chains’ padlock. The rebel fell into his arms, already coughing up smoke, and Vahlok coughed with him, too. He glanced at the rebel’s empty eye-socket. Fuck. Vahlok managed to get the rebel to stand up, holding onto his shoulder, and began half-carrying him towards the exit, until he heard a voice like thunder.
“ YOU! ”
Vahlok turned around. Face bared to the world, he made eye contact with the dragon Kahvozein, Proud-Reversing-Beyond. His eyes widened, and he turned away as soon as he could, but the damage was done; the dragon, coughing up smoke, was after them.
Vahlok dove to the ground, bringing the rebel down with him, just barely avoiding the dragon’s maw. He coughed and crawled forward, bringing the rebel with him, and pushed himself and the man both off the platform. They fell onto the quickly-emptying chamber’s floor. Vahlok stood up and held the rebel as he ran, as fast as he could, away from the great wyrm’s snapping jaws; finally, he was able to get both of them past the archway, too small for the dragon. He heard Kahvozein Shout furiously, uselessly filling the chamber up with even more fire before leaving in a hurry, and slid to the floor, still holding onto the rebel.
The rebel looked at Vahlok, wide-eyed. He coughed and seemed to notice something, touched his empty… orbit… ah. Yes.  The man blinked and then gave up on reality, falling unconscious on Vahlok’s chest.
“...I was wrong,” Vahlok whispered. “I was so, so wrong. All this time.” His shoulders shook, and he began sobbing from shock into the stranger’s auburn hair.
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Someone knocked at his door, that fateful day. (A year ago; remorse bit at Vahlok. An eternity).
At the sound, Midaar blearily blinked the last bits of sleep away from his eyes. He slapped his nightstand until he found his mask and stood up, sliding it in place; then he yawned.
“Who is it?” Midaar asked.
“It’s me, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ,” Miraak’s voice replied. There was a tone in his voice, an edge of urgency, that Midaar had rarely seen from him before. It finished waking him up. Midaar grabbed the nearest clothes he could find -- yesterday’s -- and went to the door, which opened with a soft click.
Miraak wasn’t wearing his mask.
Midaar hurried to slide the mask halfway off his face. “Miraak? Is everything alright?” he questioned, suspicious. He had barely seen Miraak’s face in years, since his friend had been made a Priest.
Miraak shushed him, urgent. “I need to talk to you now.”
“What’s wrong?”
Miraak stared at him for a moment. “I… Fuck’s sake, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ.” He let his head drop on Midaar’s chest; Midaar took a step back, surprised at Miraak’s arms around his ribcage. He hugged him back. Miraak breathed in deeply, then continued. “There’s things I need to tell you. Things I didn’t trust you enough to tell you.”
“How important?"
“Very.”
“I thought you knew you could trust me.”
“Not with this, though.” Miraak’s voice was muffled. “But I’m here to right those wrongs.”
Midaar pulled Miraak away from him. “Alright. Tell me then.” His brow furrowed in worry.
Miraak looked away. “Where to begin,” he mused. “Where to even begin.” He shook his head, then looked back at Midaar. “I saw a dragon die, six months ago from today.”
“You -- what?” The dragons were immortal. If one of them was somehow slain, Alduin would claim his soul and resurrect him. No dragon could die, and this was known.
“I saw a dragon die, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. I had -- sneaked,” Miraak admitted, just a smidge shameful, “sneaked somewhere I never should’ve gone to. Two dragons fought, enraged by clashing… it doesn’t matter. One died. And I… Its soul. I saw it.”
“You -- Lord, Miraak, where did you go?!”
“It doesn’t matter. Not far from here. Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, I… I need to tell you something I discovered about myself that day, and I need you to know I was scared.”
“What are you talking about? Are you still scared?” Priorities, snarked a voice in Midaar’s head.
“I’ll explain, and no -- I assure you, I’m not scared anymore. I will not be scared anymore, and this is a promise.”
“Then tell me.” Midaar’s grip on Miraak’s shoulder tightened.
“When the dragon died,” Miraak said, slowly, “it glowed. I saw its soul, an orange flame -- an impossible flame, forged through eons of living. And it… went, inside of me.”
Midaar’s mouth opened. It stuttered silently, then closed.
“I know,” Miraak replied. “This was the answer, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. When we were children -- I was stronger, more powerful. Healed faster. I’ve always had the ᴛʜᴜ'ᴜᴍ on the tip of my tongue. And I found my answer. I absorbed the soul, do you understand what it means? Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, my soul is that of a dragon’s.”
“I…” Midaar just stared at his friend.
(That was the pivotal moment. Vahlok, in but a few months, would rewind the entire conversation a thousand times in his head, thinking over and over what he could’ve done better, how he could’ve helped his brother. And it always, to him, revolved around that moment -- the moment Miraak’s face fell for the first time in ten years, since that talk under the sunset. The last in a string of times Midaar wilfully had let himself be left behind).
Midaar’s first words after the pivotal second had been, “This cannot be.”
Miraak’s eyes widened, and his face hardened. “It can. I’ve ached for power just like one of them from day one, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ, and you know this.”
“You -- dragons don’t own the spirit of conquest. I can’t… Lord Alduin, is this why you…?” He trailed off, shaking his head. This was a nightmare, a bad dream. It would soon pass.
“There is a spirit, a god of wisdom, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. He knows everything. He could grant me the wisdom to rule -- grant us the wisdom to rule, my brother. I did what I had to do for the best of this land, and I beg of you to join us.”
“Us.”
“Yes. You think I am alone in this rebellion? No. Others have seen the truth too, Mɪᴅᴀᴀʀ. Please, listen to me. He could be so much more to us than a dragon who does naught but allow his fellows to toy with our kind.”
Midaar stared, wide-eyed, at his brother. There was a look in his brown eyes that made him hesitate for a moment, but then blinked and looked away.
“A spirit,” Midaar said. Empty. “Miraak, you cannot trust him.” He looked back at Miraak, put a hand on his shoulder. “Please. It’s not too soon, Miraak, I beg of you to desist. This is not--” Not how we were raised. Not how we lived. (Unlike anything we ever knew).
“No, you don’t understand -- they were wrong!”
“I can’t! This is how it’s been our entire lives, Miraak. You-- This isn’t right! The dragons will kill you, and the spirit -- what says he’s trustworthy?! And you’d make a shit ruler!”
“What was that?!”
“You don’t care about people! You just care about power! And you’re so fucking rebellious, you refuse to listen to anybody! You’d end up a tyrant!”
The fire in Miraak’s eyes flickered and died. “...Fine,” he said. He smacked Midaar’s hand away from his shoulder, stepped back. Rage built up in his shoulders, built up his shoulders.  He made as if to turn around, only to abort the movement.
“Go fucking die, then, with your precious tyrannical regime,” Miraak told him, disdainful, cold -- and he punched Midaar’s face.
It caught his mouth, the side of his cheek. Midaar’s head was slung backwards and he bent over, spitting out blood. More than blood; one of his canines appeared on his hand, and his tongue immediately went to poke in its place -- empty. Shit. Shit!
“Miraak,” he muttered, just slightly sibilant. “Miraak! What the fuck?!” His head whipped upwards -- but Miraak was already gone.
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A year and a day after Miraak’s defeat, Vahlok watched silently as the dragons landed upon the island of Solstheim, and Paarthurnax watched him back, equally silent. Blood dripped from the arrow wound over one of his eyes, but Paarthurnax ignored the warmth on his temple as the last of the other dragons settled.
Vahlok stared from behind his mask, hands clasped behind his back, regal.
“...And so, the dragons have come to Solstheim,” he began, simply.
“And so we have,” Paarthurnax echoed. “To one of the last bastions of our rule, we come, so that the revolution might not have spread here.”
Vahlok did not move. That should’ve been the first clue, in retrospect; Vahlok did not bow, did not take a knee, did not seem particularly worshipful at all of the dragons. He simply stared, his head swiveling left and right, and behind his mask his eyes jumping from dragon to dragon. Counting them.
“I am afraid,” he said, “I cannot afford you safety.”
Paarthurnax tilted his head. “...How so?”
Vahlok’s eyes snapped to him, and he took a moment to reply. “This island is too small, its harvest too poor,” he blatantly lied. “We do not have enough room to afford even thinking about it.”
“These sound like excuses, Vᴀʜʟᴏᴋ,” Paarthurnax replied. “We can clearly fit, seeing as we already do so.”
“Oh, but there are no buildings designed for dragons on this island anymore,” Vahlok replied. “No grand stone arches, no purple curtains.”
“...Purple curtains. A strange choice of words.” Paarthurnax didn’t notice Vahlok’s shoulders stiffening. “I admit I have seen them. Nonetheless -- a ᴅᴏᴠᴀʜ does not need ᴊᴏᴏʀ’s buildings.”
“No, you don’t.”
“And you can feed us. Even if you couldn't, we do not strictly need food. This we know, and so do you. So why lie, then?”
Vahlok stood for a moment, arms straightened, quiet. He slowly bowed his head. Paarthurnax did not expect the next thing he heard from the mortal’s lips to be a chortle -- a small, choked-down laugh, escalating into a giggle and from there onto an open laugh.
Vahlok bent down the middle, consumed by laughter. The dragons’ wings rustled. His laughs echoed in the empty morning, bouncing off the gently-falling snow like sunlight would’ve done otherwise.
“Ah, hah hah!”, he wheezed, holding a hand to his stomach. “Oh, you’ve caught me, my lord.” He sighed. “I’ll miss this land.”
The dragons looked at each other, uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?”, one spoke up.
Vahlok huffed, the last of his laughter left behind, and straightened up, chest puffed forwards. “I reject the charge of governor of Solstheim,” he said, his words muffled from behind his mask. “I reject the charge of the guardian of Solstheim. I reject the charge of jailor of Miraak.”
As he spoke, he dug his hands into his hood, untying something; he pulled down his hood and his mask fell onto the ground. Big, dark eyes on a pale face, copper wisps of hair flicking against his face in the wind.
“And... I reject the charge of sonaak,” he finished.
“You-- you cannot do that!”, shouted another dragon.
“Oh, I can,” Vahlok replied. “I quit. I desert. I am finished with your horrible little charade of a religion.”
Angry roars and affronted whispers sprouted in the crowd of dragons. Paarthurnax silenced his entourage with a look, then looked back into Vahlok’s eyes; the mortal did not flinch.
“You are bound to us until death,” Paarthurnax said.
“I am bound no longer,” Vahlok replied. “As are the innocents and guilty alike you’ve captured, careless, to be sacrificed as entertainment. As are the multitudes dead in mismanaged famines. As was my brother, Miraak -- the priest named, as I once was, for loyalty.”
The dragons seemed about ready to jump on Vahlok, but Paarthurnax taking a step forward embarrassed them, cowed them into watching what would be a fun spectacle.
Paarthurnax looked down at Vahlok, just a tiny speck of grey and brown some distance below his field of view. Vahlok stared up at him, his hair whipping in the wind -- definitely longer than a sᴏɴᴀᴀᴋ’s should be.
“And this is where you truly wish to stand, then? Nᴀᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴀʀ ᴋᴏʟ, ʜɪɴᴅ-ᴅɪʀ?”
“Yes,” was Vahlok’s succinct response. “Miraak was right.”
“...You have planned this,” Paarthurnax realized. “For some distance.”
Vahlok frowned, confused. “You could say that, yes.”
Paarthurnax huffed a passable sigh. “If you will not give us your servitude unto death,” he said, slowly, “we will take it.”
Vahlok blinked back tears and smiled. “Take it,” he said. He faced the sky. “I have loved Skyrim for thirty-one years,” he said. “If you loved her as much as I did, as much as men did, as much as Miraak did… things would be different.” He closed his eyes.
Yᴏʟ Tᴏᴏʀ Sʜᴜʟ!
Paarthurnax’s voice was the last thing the dragon priest heard.
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mir-aak; "allegiance guide".
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* (non-literally) “[I] fairly requested of Alduin to give you mercy, and you unfairly/harshly ask of me this. Mortals [are] weak, should not request [of] us…”
if you liked the fic, feel free to give it kudos on ao3! and stay safe!!
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memcaked · 3 years
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Source: Subarashiki kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Relationships: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Hanekoma Sanae
Characters: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya, Hanekoma Sanae, mentions of shibuya kids and higher plane
Additional tags: Post-game, possible downer ending, vague talk of suicide that’s joshua kiryu, TWEWYTOBER, TWEWYTOBER 2020, Not beta read
Summary: Joshua opens the door to WildKat and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on when he shuts it behind him. He steps gingerly over the torn wallpaper, uprooted flooring, and broken furniture to the counter and turns a chair the right way up. He flips open his phone and punches in the keys, summoning black coffee in a perfect porcelain cup that he knows isn’t the one Sanae made for years when it touches his lips.
Beginning notes: this was repurposed from unpublished vent shit because again JoshuaSympathiser69. originally it was in the format of a letter joshua was writing neku about the current state of the UG that hanekoma forced him to for ment tell health which is very funny because like, vent shit that was probably a little bit too enabling. i couldn't keep the format so i just nixed it rip. the image of joshua sitting in the empty trashed wildkat never leaves my head
also i wrote this in comic sans lol
Body: Joshua opens the door to WildKat and doesn’t even bother turning the lights on when he shuts it behind him. He steps gingerly over the torn wallpaper, uprooted flooring, and broken furniture to the counter and turns a chair the right way up. He flips open his phone and punches in the keys, summoning black coffee in a perfect porcelain cup that he knows isn’t the one Sanae made for years when it touches his lips.
Maybe it’s a sense of twisted nostalgia. He doesn’t have the same darkvision he has tuned down to his human form, but he could feel the same debris squelch under his soles; the food wasted on the floor, all his shelves ransacked, that precarious fan with its blades bent half-hanging from its wires like a chandelier over the ruins. Minamimoto blazed through the UG, and when he burnt out everything tasted like ashes. It hangs low on his tongue, but he's not really sure if it's the coffee’s bitterness or the cleanup he has left in his wake or learning entirely why Minamimoto was like that.
It came so fast, flashes of light and explosive power that Joshua could barely register anything other than the Higher Plane was angry and he couldn’t tell if it was him or Sanae or both. There was another Angel, not that he could remember their face or name, and they were the new Producer looking after him. Joshua asked why this was so sudden and it was about Sanae Hanekoma broke Angel code and needs to Fall for his crimes - and you’re not doing anything freely for a long time either, Composer.
Whenever he wasn’t stuck Composing, having to watch whoever this Producer was do everything for him, he visited WildKat. It was in shambles, and he thought nobody had the time to clean. He visited WildKat, still in shambles. He visited WildKat, visited WildKat until the food started rotting and reeking, until the rot sank into the floor, leaving it sticky and burnt and not, not like the place he remembered visiting. Not like the warm café that smelled of java and pastry and soup and someone who understood. Sanae is different now and it may be his fault, a lot of it. He saw Sanae in Pork City in his rare off time fixing the elevators and all but launched himself at him. He was going off like a weird motormouth, asking are you good and why is an Angel doing everything now and why don’t you clean up WildKat and why do you look so solemn, Sanae?
His words sounded stilted, spaced, broken. He says things like Taboo and Fallen and fugitive and it doesn’t make sense until he says he did it all for Shibuya. “My Producer tried to kill me,” Joshua said, trying to keep his voice leveled, “and you thought this was a little trifle?” He couldn’t restrain himself for long until the chains snapped. Maybe it set the precedent for every conversation they have now; something reopens the wound in Joshua his trusted men tried to kill him for what he wanted and he starts screaming with the wrath of all of the Noise in Shibuya on his side, and Sanae escalates when his reasons (excuses) don’t penetrate the red in Joshua’s eyes. Nothing new is said, they strain harder and harder, and Joshua has to erase the Noise tailing him the hours after from how intense it is.
There’s a whole optimal world down there; everyone is so happy and it’s nowhere close to the same place that he wanted gone back before the Long Game. But the UG is trying to scramble to fill in the gaps of Officers and Conductors and it’s only so much Soul he can identify and bring back, all while the RG people sicken and take too many risks or be in the wrong place at the wrong time and they pile up, ready for another Game. His clairvoyance has been so blunted in the Higher Plane’s punishments he tried to tell how long until now and he came up with nothing. He wants to ask the new Producer how, but everything Joshua says is rude and unbecoming to an Angel. He asked Sanae in another rendezvous if all Angels were like this and before he could answer he elaborated into a long vignette on how he has so little control over things, so little feeling or expression involved, and he just wants to--
Sanae grabbed him by the wrist. “J, don’t tell me you’re thinking of dying again.” His voice was gravely stern, the way of talking he’d only heard several times for how much he’s known him. “You and I both know we won’t have the strength for it if you do.”
“You’re so worried,” Joshua put on his mock-affected voice Sanae loves to defuse the tension. “To put you at ease, I’m not texting my l’appel du vide again until next year.” Sanae didn’t like that one either. When he echoed the give up on yourself and you give up on the world, Joshua exploded over how he’s such a hypocrite and gave up on his Composer because he couldn’t respect his wishes. It’s been 11 days since he’s seen Sanae. They’re all bitter.
To lay himself bare, he doesn’t feel like anything Sanae was concerned about. There’s something in him he needs to fill, something he didn’t know was missing back when all he could feel pulsing through the veins he didn’t have was the corruption that wouldn’t empty, that needed to be destroyed. Joshua hasn’t felt emotional or human for a long time, hasn’t felt more uncertain and stuck when this should be the perfect world. He wanted the best for Neku, for Neku and Shiki and Beat and Rhyme and he knows he could never be a part of their human equation or if he deserves it. The world is perfect for them, the one Neku earned himself. This is him dealing with the consequences of everything.
Through the rustles (does WildKat have an infestation too? probably.) and chilled, stagnant air there’s something only just palpable - more like ESP, stronger than Noise or Reapers or him that he can’t sense. Sanae told him the Angels of Shibuya are everywhere, waiting for any spare moment or lead to arrest him, and asked Joshua “if you were me, where would you regularly go?” when Joshua remarked how WildKat still isn’t clean.
He drinks up the last lukewarm dregs of the coffee, hunches over and types the keys to vanish the cup; he doesn’t need to add dirty crockery to this never-cleaned mess. He thinks he needs to put 680 yen on his tab when one of them breaks the silence, like they don’t realise they’re trapped in a cycle and straining. Joshua plugs the siren song of the void. Sanae didn’t Fall for him to not to.
End notes: gonna give up my dreams and ideas forever now after writing "I'm not texting my l'appel du vide" its the perfect line
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still-intrepid · 4 years
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Sooo as I said I just came from seeing the CATS movie.  This is a completely non-review reaction of someone who was (aaaand is) a massive CATS fan, got the t shirt twice, got the autograph from Old D, wrote the fic and ran the catssite, made the costume, played all the music… and was, as an overall feeling, just pretty happy coming out of it.  …I should explain that the bar was INCREDIBLY LOW going in, I was expecting to be upset and have my youth ruined, and what I ended up with was having a nice time.  Not thinking this is definitive production or even in places like… a production at all… it felt like fan jokes, which was neat, sure…  But yeah this is a mainly pretty positive ramble coming up:
spoilers?  I guess?
pluses
how much they actually did retain of the score, the orchestration and the lyrics. Some of the cuttting up of songs was a bit annoying, like Skimble's first tap dancing break, but that one picked up again and I liked having tap dancing somewhere!  The thing I was afraid and really pretty sure would happen is the kinda constant expanding and destroying of the rhythms like happened in Beauty and the Beast and this was really mercifully free of that, it was great!
Jellicle Songs!  I'm gonna need to listen again but I was on board with e.g. the new beatz they put in
MUNKUSTRAP.  And all the main cast, actually.  But Munkustrap, who is that guy, what a good performance, he Gets it.
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer!!  I didn't realise they were going back to the original melody version, and I do love the new one, but this was still one of my favourite parts.  Just a really solid song, and I love both of them. Iiii also might actually want to do something with the characterisation of them taking Vicky (or Jem or Plato or whoever) on a spree.
Old D singing at the camera at the end, actually.  very sweet.  
one exception to my general thing about boo the spoken bits - Mungojerrie saying “Old Deut” :DD just like we do!
I liked the look of it!  I was so happy they started off in a lil junkyard, and thereafter all the weird locations actually worked for me.  actually yeah the more I think about this I really enjoyed the set design.  
There was a severe lack of interrelationships esp where we always used to look in the background (..this is getting to a positive I promise), but I understand that a bit because 1) maybe there was and I'll spot on rewatch 2) they did want to focus etc etc….. …the positive part of this is that I liked how Jenny and Tugger and Munku and Misto and Gus acted like they knew each other, parts like that.
Gus!  Sir Ian!  he didn't go down the pathos route as much as I almost expected which is just as well cos I would have cried.  But he did it very well.  (did he make a weird mistake in the lyrics "like to recall his/my success on the halls where the gallery once gave him/me seven cat calls" — "likes to relate", why would you change it to call twice in a sentence..)
All the head bumps/caresses, thank u for not cutting those out.
things
beautiful ghosts was: pretty, definitely didn't fit with the rest of the music or ESPECIALLY the rest of the words good grief, tonally.  As a fan song for this Victoria and Grizabella, I love it! and it doesn't upset me too much to hear it next to Memory.  props for going straight through three songs!  even in the show we have the interval!
Main thing is they streamlined all the characters, and eh, it's not Right, but it's mainly okay.  I know the Tugger/Misto shippers are hurting right, and I'm sorry;;  I think it's mainly okay because the result is they didn't really change anyone's character because they either changed them so completely or they weren't really there/they looked completely different.  New!Demeter seemed to be like a portmanteau of Cassandra and Bombalurina.  (TaylorSwift!Bombalurina… had no character at all…)
they even had the overture!  the plot related stuff, sure, eh okay, and I def liked how they went with the dancing-acting right there so you knew what you were in for.
I mean I think they did CHANGE size/scale throughout, if anyone cares.  The mice/cockroaches tho were stupidly tiny, that makes no sense at all lol.
me at the start: whoa hello a thousand new Munksutrap/Victoria shippers!  me later: ahah we're going for the old school Misto/Vicky I see, hello the ancient shipping wars!  me later still: huh and hello a thousand new Munkustrap/Misto fans?  me in the ending: Or is it Munku and his two adopted children who he will Protect At All Costs.  me, later, reflecting: Yeah it's just that we basically only saw those three characters isn't it.
So the whole added Macavity plot?  errr!  it didn't waste that much time.  It was very silly! 
The Victoria plot, again, I'm like, sure, fine, not needed especially not to be spoon fed to us like that but eh fine!  (But dude it's definitely not Great Cinema!)
The trailers were Not Good!  who made those.  They even changed it to "Cats, Cats" rather than Jellicle Cats come on all the does is alienate your fans, newcomers are finding this quite weird enough, one made-up word isn't going to push them over the edge.
oh it was a bit weird how it worked with Grizabella, re no one touches her… Victoria straight up takes her hand and leads her into SING FOR HER LIFE which actually made it weirder.  Yeah, making the competition so explicit in general I guess didn't work super well for me, leave that to the fic, but I guess you can't have the kind of vague/metaphorical-ness in a film these days you can in a musical, maybe, although apparently that annoyed people too…
minuses
ehh most of the talking/explaining the plot /rolllls eyes
on the whole the changing the songs to first person didn’t work great.  both of these tho were like ehh, not right, but not ruining my day
they made me afraid we were NEVER going to hear the trumpetty melody bit! because we didn’t for a really long time for no good reason
the cuts in the Naming and in the Jellicle Ball were really jarring 1) lyrically (you cant just cut rhymes!! putting in a few more lines would have cost you, what, 10 seconds at the speed it was going) and 2) musically.  aaaah i was disappointed because it sounded for a moment there like we were going to get a brilliant full orchestra/guitar definitive version.  I was okay with Tugger's lil let's get the party started bit, it was the weird cuts between sections afterwards.  Also I'm not sure about the new version of the horn countermelody?  what was with that?
sooo for me Macavity and Mr Mistoffelees worked the least well of the songs, unfortunately.  Macavity because it lost a lot of the energy and cool by not being a duet, and lost the sense of actual menace at the same time; Mr Mistoffelees because it was the worst offender of stopping and starting. 
Ahhhh the downsides of cutting down the characters etc that I actually noticed and minded was Vicky having no friends, El and Etcy and Jem I would have liked to see even if the point is Vicky is new and hasn't met them yet, and e.g. MORE people reacting to Tugger.  I think they could have made that streamlining choice but not done it quite as extremely.
So the whole cgi and tails and stuff wasn't as distressing as I was led to believe, it was fine.  The costumes and the makeup (or whatever) individually I didn't mind at all either — I prefer the stage ones but they're just very different.  I feel like tho this contributed to not being able to tell background cats apart, that and just the camera work.  And did taylor swift just bring a bunch of new lookalike macavity fan cats?  That was weird and again yyyeah the fact that she only appears in that song (does she?? right?? I wasn't sure what she looked like so thought she might have been earlier, but she's the last credit in order of appearance)…. doesn't work so great.
conclusion
eeeeee CATS….. I've been queueing up the DVD to watch weirdly since the summer I don't know why.  I had a Proper Concentrated listen through to that recording and the French one (idk I really like that one, listen to Macavity in there to see how it should be done)… I'm about ready to fall back into the whole fandom, make another blog, write some fic….  I might be tho in a similar place to where I was re I don't want to go on and on discussing the fallout from this movie… I'm getting the feeling that some of the more staged outraged reviews actually wouldn't like the original thing that I do REALLY like so it's not really… yeah.  I guess I was prepared to be really upset and left in the cold as an Old Fan, but I didn't feel so bad.  A part of me worries still about this becoming the new normal/standard, but ehhh I see lots of people posting about the stage/video versions, and the fact that the movie really doesn't define/completely changes characters might be a strength there.  I also feel like I don't want to spend too much in the Old Fans zone being angry and bitter, so…
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welcometoteamz · 5 years
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verse.    »    canon
Blaine as presented in the iZombie canon. Willing to write him at any point in time during any season. open to all.
verse.    »    i don’t think he’s faking
So there was a year long hiatus between seasons 2 and 3 where I wrote Blaine’s amnesia as being a legit and lasting thing, and he forged new dynamics and relationships with folk. i didn’t want to throw all that out so. he has Blaine’s history, but basically he becomes a new character with the same name/face . selectively open to mutuals.
verse.    »    new and improved version
Blaine tells Peyton when his memories return, and he makes a genuine effort to turn his life around. In her words, his memories come back, but he stays this new and improved version of Blaine. who is honest and doesn’t let his own fears and insecurities and accountability skirting fuck things up for himself. selectively open to mutuals.
verse.    »   bye bitch Blaine never feeds Angus and he’s left to turn Romero and eventually decompose at the bottom of the well.
open to all
verse.    »    untitled DuBeers verse
Rita survived getting shot in the head, and due to having no where else to turn went to Blaine. The two struck up a partnership/kinship/cute yet mischievous little dynamic. pretty much exclusive to @fairisfair, but if anyone wants threads set in that verse they can let me know.
verse.    »    teenage dirtbag
Blaine prior to the iXombie series, where he is a high school/uni student who eventually turns to selling underage kids beer which turns to him pushing drugs which leads to works for Boss after Angus cuts him off. open selectively to mutuals.
verse.    »    untitled au where blaine never started up meat cute
Yeah by this point he had turned Angus and carelessly turned Jackie but in this verse liv confronts him after seeing him with Dougie and Hutch. in this verse blaine didn’t know he could turn someone via sex, but after the confrontation at the morgue and being unable to get drunk he needed to feel something and turning jackie was an accident. so now liv is keeping a close eye on him which means no criminal activities. exclusive to certain mutuals.
verses under cuts bc their descriptions are too long. 
»    the blaine didn’t steal the cures au/rob thomas is inconsistent
» the latter half of s3 and all of s4 were lackluster imo and i wanna ignore it them
verse    »    the blaine didn’t steal the cures au/rob thomas is inconsistent
bc i’m bitter. Blaine tries to turn his life around, but get caught in a lie and fuck it up for himself due to his own insecurities and fear of rejection. it’s more tragic if he still tried to behave himself even after his lie was exposed, and it was the hit from Angus that dragged him back into his old life after he got his retribution. like he was all angry but also defeated when don e showed up and told him they were taking his clients. he was just resigned to his miserableness. he was that devastated over losing his new life, nothing mattered to him anymore. and yeah. the fact he was with Peyton while lying is no doubt problematic and i’m mad at them for getting me on board with that and then pulling the rug out from under me…
But in my mind, he was still going to try and start anew even if she chose Ravi. even after his lie was exposed, and he knew he wouldn’t change how they saw him…he knew he was capable of doing good, and would have kept doing it. imo. He stopped caring about the business when he was in his depressed funk. Candy had to get on him about the orders. He wouldn’t have stolen the cures, because in that state, he didn’t care. he was so apathetic about everything. it took nearly getting killed for him to have a sense of what to do with himself. and yeah, they showed him with the blue juice recipe. that’s what i mean by inconsistent. one episode he’s all “well at least i have this and i can be dastardly” and the next he’s drunkenly singing love songs and moping and neglecting the business. You’re telling me that Blaine stole the cures, went shopping for the blue juice ingredients, and then went to get drunk and sing his set? nah son.
Which goes into the whole “i think there was more to the Natalie situation than we got, but they changed it bc she left the show for a new one and they were reduced back to 13 eps.”
Not just the inconsistency of her having money, and of Oates not finding her like she said he would. esp. when she was amnesiac…but they had the bodyguard see Ravi’s ID, and note where he worked. There had to have been a reason for that.If she told him about the cure and used it to barter her freedom.If she sold the information to them or something…because if she said she got it from Major, and his friend Ravi, then they’d know to ransack the morgue. For that matter, when she escaped, you don’t think they’d go looking for her with the guys who tried to save her from them? but like. if Ravi hadn’t slept with Katty Kupps and if pavi had sailed in s3. Blaine would have kept working as a lounge singer while also doing shady plots stuff, and he would have been content.
Which goes to ways Blaine could have gotten out of his lie, that someone like Blaine would have thought about. Like.
Why not just get out of his lie with another lie? It would have been in character. Lie and say Ravi’s memory serum works. Major is injected with both at the same time, no one thinks anything of it when his memories come back. then do the same thing when a cure is able to be mass produced. Blaine gets to be happy and be with Peyton. Yes he loses the brain business, but I think he’d be willing to give that up for a fresh start and someone who loves him. Even if he gains it through bad and shifty/dishonest means.
Let’s not forget that was the episode where he had to sign the millions in inheritance back to Angus. if he that had not happened and he had all that money to fall back on? my trashy lil dude is set. so yeah. that was inconsistent and Lazy and this verse ignores that. open to all.
open to all.
verse.    »   the s4 was lackluster and i wanna ignore it au
S4 was all over the place and Not Good imo. idk if that is due to the episode count or if they changed things when they realized they had promoted a predator... but you have the Renegade stuff, the FG stuff, and the angus stuff.
Which wound up being all filler. like. why not tie it all together and have Angus as the ultimate big bad? not that i wanted fuckface to get more screentime. but like. how about Angus’ cult his plan to team up with FG from S3? if Blaine or don e tell them?
IT DOESN’T EVEN COME INTO PLAY AT ALL IN S4 WHEN FUCKFACE RETURNS. NO ONE CALLS HIM OUT ON HATING FILLMORE-GRAVES, REMINDING HIM OF HIS PLAN. HOW AWESOME WOULD IT HAVE BEEN IF THIS WAS EXPOSED TO HIS CHURCH AND THEY TORE HIM APART LIKE THE HYENAS DID SCAR IN THE LION KING?
And they never mention Blaine killing chase’s brother/Vivian’s husband Harrison. Now there are two tangents I could go into here. the first is how Blaine storyline in the back half of S3 may have suffered due to Andrea Savage leaving the show for her own series, I’m Sorry.
It’s possible we would have seen her and Blaine face off if she learned he presumably killed her husband Harrison.  but like. they still could have done that with chase. chase is Harrison brother. he worked with Blaine. he is smart enough and would easily be able to figure out that Blaine was the OG brain supplier and would have been the one to kill his brother.
Once he no longer needed Blaine, i.e. was done with his blackmail? He would have but him in the guillotine. I expected this. I expected Blaine to pull the same card he pulled on Liv in S1. That without him, they have a zombie apocalypse on their hands. There was a brain shortage prior to the outbreak when Blaine approached him in the S3 finale. In S4 it’s even worse. There’s even a plot about Major tracking down watered down brain tube dealers.
Chase is a proud man, he wouldn’t have gone back to Blaine automatically… but after the US Government cuts off the brain supply in the finale, Major enlists Blaine to increase his operations.You don’t think that in the middle of the brain shortage crisis, Chase would have bitten the bullet and remembered Blaine’s proposal?
Ok, at this point, you’re probably asking yourself. “Mmhm, okay, so maybe that’s a better plot for Blaine… but then who did steal the cures?”
Again, see the last verse. Osborn Oates. Don’t remember him? Yeah, neither do any of the characters, apparently. He was the guy who was Natalie’s captor. Who apparently had the the influence to bribe Max Rager guards under Vaughn Du Clark’s nose. He was described by Ravi as being like a Bond villain. Natalie warns Major that wherever he goes, he’ll find her, but then… he doesn’t.
She travels the world. He doesn’t track her down. Even when she herself would have been vulnerable and amnesiac.
He doesn’t even try to track down Major and find out what he knows… if he was responsible for her escape. We know he is aware of Major. Major and Ravi followed he and his body guard.His body guard even checked Ravi’s morgue ID, and would have known where the cures were kept had he known about the cures.
Which… I think, Natalie might have told him about, in an effort to barter her freedom. Remember when we first met her? She said that since she was paid in brains by Blaine, who had become her pimp after turning her, that she ran through her savings and was broke. Yet… when she returns in S3, she tells Major that she traveled the world and had a place in Italy that she got thanks to her savings earned as sex worker.So… what is the truth?
I don’t want to speculate about a villainous Natalie. I actually liked her character, and she was certainly victimized and I don’t want to take away from that at all. Given her desperate situation though, might she have made some choices out of self preservation? Her own best interest?
I think there was more to the Natalie situation than we got. I think it suffered because they went from 19 episodes in season 2 back to a 13 episode order. I don’t know if her exit had more to do with propelling Major’s character’s decisions, or if because Natalie’s actress Brooke Lyons had gotten work as a series regular on the show Life Sentence. Maybe a bit of both? Maybe they did plan to kill her at the end of the arc, but the arc happened sooner than anticipated due to the shortened season? Knowing that they’d be losing her, they couldn’t carry that thread over to S4?
So instead they just dropped Osborn Oates, and over the summer Rob Thomas decided to change it to Blaine in S4 because no one would question it? Sorry Rob, I question it. You said in post S3 interviews that you planned to reveal who stole the cures in the finale, but there was no time so you’d get to it in S4.Really? That’s why? No time? If you had the time, how would it have come into play? The way it did come into play was Blaine seeking out Mama Leone, because Chase was blackmailing him. Are you telling me Chase would have done that in the S3 finale? That you would have seeded Renegade as a plotline even then?
I’m calling bullshit .I think it’s far more likely that plans fell through, and you needed the time to do a rewrite.
Even if Natalie had nothing to do with the cures being stolen, if it was planned to be Blaine all along…
You kill her off, and she doesn’t even get to confront Blaine? They never have a scene together? He’s responsible for her being a zombie, which led to her being kidnapped, and then held hostage.Yet he helped Major find her when he could have pleaded ignorance. He gave him Oates’ address and let him know when he was back in town. He didn’t have to do that. He could have said that it’s not the address on record, and Major wouldn’t have questioned him.
He could have elected not to tip Major off that he was back in town, and he wouldn’t have been able to find Natalie and give her the cure when he did.I’m not saying this excuses Blaine of what he did to her at all, or that the two would have been “even” or made peace. Not at all. There is no retribution for what he did to her.It does however, go back to my belief he was legit trying to change. open to those who are interested.
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facialgirl2017-blog · 6 years
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Kala and Wolfgang: Why they were supposed to be “Ride or Die” (and why Love Did NOT Conquer All)
I know there is war right now among the fandom: those who loved every bit of the finale, and those of us who are bitter, angry, and feel betrayed over what happened with 1 of the 2 left unresolved story arcs going into the finale.
As we all know, the two major story arcs going into the finale that still needed to be finalized were: The takedown of BPO/Freeing Wolfgang/Revenge on Lila and Whispers. You could possibly break these into 3 sep arcs but I consider them to be 1 since Wolfgang was being held hostage and tortured by BPO and Lila and Whispers although working for their own self interests, were also working for BPO.
Overall, I think the resolution of this was good, I give it a rating of 7/10. There were a few things I was not crazy about: First, who was the chairman? When his face was revealed, he was no one we had ever seen, so why the big reveal? Second, before we could possibly find out who exactly he was and what his true motivations were, his brains were blown out. Really, we couldnt have gotten some info there, first? Also, I felt the killing of Lila and Whispers was somewhat anti-climatic. Though I love that Will/Wolfgang ended them together and I love the reappearance of Wolfgang’s rocket launcher, I was expecting or would have preferred some dramatic words exchanged first between them, some words of goodbye before killing them. Or even better, for Kala/Wolfgang to have killed Lila together. That would have been poetic. And 3rd, I felt the reason given behind Whispers zombie project, his motivations was weak and didnt make sense to me, JMHO. Though IMO what did happen wasnt the best, it was still decent.
Anyway, moving on, the other story arc going into the finale: Wolfgang and Kala finally truly being together at last and Rajan discovering the truth! Being that I am a GIANT Kalagang fan (literally my favorite tv couple of ALL TIME), I must say that I do love EVERY couple in Sense8, but Kalagang reigns supreme. And from everything I have seen on social media, they seemed to be THE MOST POPULAR COUPLE ON SENSE8. Surely Lana had known this, even though she doesnt do social media. They were also the only couple (except for Sun and Mun) that were not a solid couple still yet going into the finale. We had no worries of all the solid couples breaking up. Which in a way, is refreshing for a tv show cause so often couples are constantly torn apart and if you are lucky, put back together or always in angst. It was great that Nomi/Neets, Hernando/Lito, Will/Riley, etc never were in jeopardy. So I, like myself, expected a HUGE payoff for Kala and Wolfgang in the finale. They were the only couple that were in constant angst throughout all of season 1 and 2. And bravo to Max and Tina, for being able to keep that explosive chemistry alive throughout all 2 seasons.
Why should there have been a huge payoff for this couple you might ask me? Well, because of their character dev throughout both seasons. From the moment they saw each other for the first time, just like Will and Riley, they were in love (that is because in sensate world, some cluster mates are predestined to be together, I think so anyway) BOTH of these couples were predestined to be together in this cluster. Why was it so much more difficult for Kala and Wolfgang to be together than it was for Will and Riley? Because Kala was already about to be married to someone else, and Wolfgang was entrapped in a life of mob danger and a life of being treated like garbage by his crap abusive and violent family. Like he said in the finale, he always thought he was not worth it. Which is the main reason why he never loved a woman before, until Kala.
Kala was a woman who was afraid of herself, afraid of all the facets of herself and what and who she wanted in life. she was a people pleaser, and a very moral person (nothing wrong with that!). A person of faith (I really liked btw that at least one of the sensies was religious, though in reality more than 1 of them should be. And I am by no means a religious person, but that would have been more realistic since 95% of the worlds population is, but I digress).
These two characters could not be more opposite, but yet were perfect compliments of each other. From the very beginning, they were constantly drawn to each other while (in season 1 esp) having not much sensate connection with the others in their cluster. They each gave the other what they were lacking. And through this growing love and attraction to each other, Wolfgang was opening up to being more of the good person he truly was inside while Kala was growing more into being the brave, firey woman she truly was inside.
The only logical and expected conclusion to what was going to happen in the finale was that they would save Wolfgang. Kala and Wolfgang would finally meet in person, they would finally consumate their love in person, and after Rajan found out everything that was going on, Kala would nicely break up with Rajan, ending their marriage but probably remaining friends. But nope, that is not what we got.
At the end of ep 2x11, we had Kala finally CHOOSE WOLFGANG CHOOSE THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER. She was brave, and she was totally going to tell Rajan except that Rajan didnt give her a chance to say anything and shipped her off. Never once during any episode did Kala ever tell Rajan that she loved him. It was obvious she cared for him, but we were never led to believe she was also in love with him as well as Wolfgang. Everytime she was conflicted with her choice, what she was always saying about this conflict was: choosing between her love for Wolfgang, or choosing the life and obligation she had with Rajan. Also that she doesnt like to hurt people and felt bad about hurting Rajan because he was a good man. Never once did Kala EVER say she was in love with both and that was her dilemma. Had that been the case, then I could totally understand her in the finale, choosing both. But that was not the case.
In the finale, Rajan was such an after thought to her that in the first couple of weeks they were in Paris trying to rescue Wolfgang, she NEVER CONTACTED RAJAN IN ANY WAY. It apparently didnt even occur to her, nor did she care enough to do so. Rajan had to contact her, and when he did, she panicked. He shows up, and is very understanding of the whole sensorium reveal, but now suddenly Kala does not have the courage to tell him about her love for Wolfgang? When she was going to tell him before she left for europe?
When Rajan arrived and Kala talked to him, we are left with the impression that she left out that her and Wolfgang were in love with each other. Then later as we see, Rajan seems to know what is going on, though we dont know how. Did she tell him but that part got cut from the ep. or did he figure it out on his own by watching everything that was playing out? Or did Will or Riley or someone else tell him? We dont know, but I assume he either figured it out on his own or Will or someone spilled the beans, cause in that moment of opportunity, Kala choked. This was the start of Kala inexplicibly reverting back to her season 1 self.
Rajan decides to stay and help (or more like tag along) with the cluster to help them on their mission. During this time, are we supposed to believe that Kala has somehow quickly fallen in love with Raj as well? She still never tells him that she loves him, and he has done nothing extraordinary for her to do so. The only thing I see is Kala developing more appreciation and admiration for him for being so understanding, supportive, and taking everything in stride. And Raj should be commended for that. but that is not true love. Sorry but it is not.
Kala again has the opportunity to really tell or show Raj her true heart for Wolfgang, to truly reveal her truth and herself to him. When she arrives at the chateau to greet both him and wolfgang. She could have and should have redeemed herself here, and give Wolfgang the greeting he truly deserved. But nope, cowardice completely consumes her again. But I have to ask: WHY? There is no reason for this cowardice. Rajan already knows (somehow) at this point about Wolfgang. It was nice that she hugged and kissed Raj, but then she gives Wolfgang the kiss she wants to give him via visiting instead of in person. This made me so angry I wanted to throw a shoe at the tv! (I almost did!) yes she did give Wolf a really great hug in front of Raj, but she should have kissed him as well (and maybe at this time also tell Raj adios? In a nice way, of course). But she didnt. Second opportunity gone.
After that we get no real life physical love-in between Kalagang until Kala is shot and almost dies. Finally she and Wolf kiss in real life. But Raj is there (seriously?) and she has to make him feel good and important. To me that ruined the entire intimate moment of love between Kalagang. (another imaginary shoe thrown at the tv)
Last real opportunity for Kala to find her courage was at the wedding. I really expected it to happen here. I expected there to be a romantic scene between Kalagang, a grand gesture of love for everyone to see. Nope, didnt get that. All we got was them dancing together in the distance, Kala holding hands with Raj during the ceremony, Will asking Kala what is her choice and Kala shrugging her shoulders as if this is just a silly little choice (A CHOICE SHE ALREADY MADE BEFORE LEAVING FOR PARIS) and then one of the other clustermates ( I forget who) asking Wolfgang about it and him shrugging his shoulders as if it is no big deal to him who or when Kala finally chooses! WHAT??? This makes ZERO sense! This honestly ruined the whole wedding for me. It really did which also makes me mad!
This is long so I will briefly touch on why Raj and Wolf were also out of character for this whole thing. Wolfgang throughout the season is a Ride or Die kind of a guy. Extremely loyal and will do anything for the people who truly loves. he shows this over and over. He is like that with Felix, with his mother(in the flashback)  with all of the cluster, and with Kala. He is so ride and die that he has killed several of his close relatives for justice. He pressured Kala into choosing at the end of season 2. He basically said to her “stop playing games, now or never” (not a quote from him, just the feeling behind what he actually said) and he even told Kala “pretending isnt a life” this man has NEVER pretended who he was EVER in his life. But now he is going along with this pretend threeesome? Umm no that makes ZERO sense. The love between him and Kala was so deep, they were both willing to Romeo/ Juliet duo suicide for each other, but suddenly “meh, she can stay married to Raj and I will share her on the weekends”? No, I dont think so, that completely goes against everything Wolfgang is and always has been.
And I also dont believe Raj would go along with this. Yes he has always loved Kala even though he has always known that she did not reciprocate the same intensity of feelings for him and he just went along with it anyways. But we must remember, he did try to give her an out a couple of times in season 1 and also during their honeymoon. he also even said in 2x11 that he fully understands the future of their marriage is uncertain and he is fine with that. Also, I am pretty sure that indian men are not accustomed to sharing their wives with other men. Not to mention, I think Raj has enough self esteem to want a better and more complete love from a woman for himself. And being he loves Kala so much, he should love her enough to want her to go with her true love. I honestly think he would want that. Raj would not settle for this limbo, either. He could not be happy in the short or long term, taking turns with Wolfgang for Kala’s affection and attention.
So this shotty conclusion is just so wrong in so many ways and goes against all 3 characters and their entire story arc. Lana throws all of that away that she did with these characters previously, just so she can shatter societal norms by saying “why should a woman have to choose?” If that was your true intentions all along, Lana (which is obvious it was not) then you would have written their story development A LOT differently throughout the two seasons. Kala left immediately to go rescue Wolfgang, she cared less about her husband until he showed up. She broke through blockers and sedatives to connect with Wolf, she was willing to kill herself for him, Wolfgang felt he was not worth it and Kala assured him that he was, but yet despite all of that she cant find the courage to tell Rajan I want a divorce, I need to be with the man that I love? You titled the episode “Love Conquers All” yet you contradict yourself in the finale with this story, but showing that love does not conquer all. It was not even able to conquer a silly fear of speaking the truth and letting another person down. In the end you did a great disservice to all 3 characters, but Kala in particular. You who say are a champion for strong women, made her weak, cowardice, and selfish in the end. You had her basically show Wolfgang through her actions (or lack of actions) that he actually was not worth it. Shame on you, Lana. And that is why we kalagang fans are really let down by the finale.
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