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angelsndragons · 3 years

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fjord’s feelings for caduceus changed in episodes 98-99

by which i mean, fjord finally realized how special and important he is to caduceus, which in turn set the tone of their relationship for the rest of the campaign. buckle up, this is a long one.

not when fjord threw away his sword and went to caduceus instead of jester. or when caduceus presented him with the star razor. or after the citadel fight when caduceus gave him his holy symbol. i think things changed for fjord in episode 98-99, when caduceus saved his life and removed the orb.

this is going to require some context.

because here’s the thing: fjord’s always looking for the price, waiting for the catch or other shoe to drop. people caring for him because of him with no strings attached is unprecedented. vandren and the world taught fjord that love is conditional, that only if you hide what others would find ugly and make yourself useful to them will they deign to give you a scrap of affection. i don’t think vandren did this maliciously, mind you, it was just part of his worldview and fjord’s life up to and beyond that point supported it. we can see that right up to the end of the show, where fjord is terrified that vandren didn’t remember him or that he didn’t mean nearly as much to the man as vandren did to him.

so we have fjord, who learned to don masks and hide his truest self, including his best and worst aspects. while fjord made the nein into a coherent group, into a force, a crew, a family, even, he still waited for that other shoe to drop. waited for the day that they would reject him because he was no longer useful or because he pushed them too far. you can see this waiting all over the early campaign; he’s not looking for an excuse like caleb to cut and run but he anticipates nearly all the moments that almost fractured the nein, in spite of that low wisdom score. while jester carried the guilt of not being able to save molly, fjord carried the guilt of not protecting the group in that crucial moment. travis confirmed on talks that fjord’s biggest fear when he lost his powers the first time was that he would no longer be useful and be kicked out of the group.

that’s why fjord damn near broke down at the end of 72. the nein, no questions asked, with their standard level of snark, accepted that he was going to be a liability and kept him around anyway. armed him anyway. declared that he was no liability and that they would help him along until he could help himself and them again. this unconditional acceptance caught fjord completely off guard. it always does, really. because caduceus had said for months, an out of game half a year, that he was looking to reforge the sword as a gift for fjord. he said this to fjord’s face. he did not change course when he learned that the sword was a legendary blade forged by acolytes of the wildmother and moonweaver. the blade was still meant for fjord, even if fjord was still chained to uk’otoa. fjord extends his love and protection to the nein but is still not convinced the reverse is true. he was starting to believe it but he wasn’t quite there yet.

caduceus has a high enough wisdom to understand that’s fjord’s hang up even if he doesn’t quite understand the reasoning behind it. that’s why he pulls fjord aside in ep 75 and tells him that he doesn’t have to choose the wildmother, that there are other gods and other ideas out there looking for a champion. fjord, who at this point considers wildmom his only option (travis says she’s the only one who’s shown the slightest interest in fjord and that’s why he’s gunning for her), is befuddled by caduceus and this whole talk, so much so the pair end up talking past each other for the next several episodes.

after fjord officially becomes a paladin, things between him and caduceus become fairly...unsettled compared to their previous interactions. they talk past each other more, they aren’t in sync enough to double team those social interactions they were just starting to get good at. things are just weird for a while. to me, that’s fjord waiting for the catch, waiting for caduceus to call in some favor or something like it. and he keeps getting confused when caduceus doesn’t. so he tries once or twice to follow in caduceus’ footsteps and do as he would instead. and it just makes things weirder. these two don’t have a moment together that doesn’t leave one of them confused or unsatisfied until ep 87, when caduceus gives fjord the holy symbol and inadvertently kicks off the next phase of their relationship. because here, caduceus tries to put them back on equal footing and fjord recognizes it. caduceus rejects framing their relationship as mentor/student and tells fjord he doesn’t need caduceus to give him answers. fjord is “well on his way.”

by defining what they aren’t, mentor/student, our two boys inadvertently ask the question, “so what are we?” honestly, it’s a question that the entire group grapples with in the 90s as they reintegrate yasha, as veth struggles with the question of changing back and whether she can stay with the nein, as beau tries to sacrifice herself for veth, as jester learns some uncomfortable truths about the traveler, as caduceus finds his family again. fjord and caduceus can easily define what they aren’t - not mentor/student, not brothers or cousins- but what they actually are stumps both of them.

their relationship doesn't look like any of their relationships with the others: beau is fjord's bro and first mate, caleb is fjord's complicated mirror and admiree, jester his crush and first person he learned to be vulnerable with, veth his antagonistic sibling. on caduceus' side, caleb is the one he looks to for a fellow project nerd and clear, unvarnished goals, beau and jester are the sisters caduceus misses, yasha the quiet beloved barbarian he understands better than the rest, and veth a mess he wants to help but can't. but fjord and caduceus' relationship is highly undefined at this point. notably undefined, beyond their newly shared connection to melora. at the dinner with essek, we get the stone bomb. and travis and fjord panic. like no, seriously, they spend the next four episodes low key panicking over this revelation. this ties back to fjord waiting for those other shoes to drop but it’s also more than that.

when it comes to destiny, fjord has always been the answer, the self made man, to both caduceus and caleb’s questions about destiny. he makes choices about who he is, who he wants to be, and takes actions towards those goals. he is one of those rare people who can wear many different masks, take on many different roles, while still maintaining his sense of self and becoming a fuller version of who he is. when I say fjord is the answer to destiny, what i mean is that he is what ioun said way back in c1 about Fate: mortals make choices and through those choices, destiny is fulfilled. he is the answer to caduceus' own growth from passive instrument waiting for someone to play him to active communicator in this conversation between gods and mortals. in this sense, fjord is what caduceus learns to be (this is exactly why caduceus rejects a mentor role; he has as much to learn from fjord as vice versa).

so for this coincidence to pop up, this idea that maybe fjord only had the illusion of choice to extend his service to the wildmother, that maybe somehow he was manipulated again, that there was some grand destiny pushing things and fjord had no say in it, yeah, i can see why fjord was low-key terrified. so is this what fjord and caduceus are: just some predestined grand fairy tale partnership neither of them have that much say in? episode 96 resoundingly rejects that label too. for one thing, none of the stones or clays treat fjord's last name as anything amazing or spectacular. for another, this string of episodes gives us caduceus at his most human. the terror of not knowing what happened to his family, the uncertainty of his homecoming, the relief of saving his family and home, the irritation at the way the chaos crew treats the temple, the playful attitude caduceus cultivates after, it's all on display. caduceus drops much of his placid exterior and willingly allows the nein to see sheer depth of emotion he has.

which leads me back to episode 98-99. uk’otoa’s agents come for fjord. and caduceus is pissed. travis and ashley both said on talks that they hadn’t really seen taliesin that pissed, that it was like someone had threatened an actual loved one of his. fjord dies. and comes back to an exhausted, still pissed off firbolg who is five seconds away from snapping archmage vess derogna’s head off for interrupting his prayer of healing. taliesin doesn’t even begin to relax until they start interrogating the dead fish people the next day. once caduceus confirms the ball is still in fjord, notably caduceus and caleb were the two who remembered, fjord starts asking for a way to remove it. he asks caduceus to start a commune with wildmom in tandem with jester’s commune with the traveler. caleb tells fjord that caduceus fought “very hard for you while you were down, i don’t know if he’s up to it.” having heard that, caduceus still tries, with his first divine intervention attempt of the campaign. and when jester figures out that greater restoration will work, caduceus pushes through his exhaustion, takes charge, and goes through a truly terrifying greater restoration with fjord to remove the ball. convulsing, seizing, shuddering, collapsing, etc.

in those moments, and in the quiet after when fjord confirms that he still has his powers, it finally hits him that yes, people can protect, fight, and love him for who he is alone. there is no chain or other shoe waiting to be dropped here. the wildmother is no uk’otoa, to punish or take power at a whim. caduceus will fight with everything he has and then some for fjord because he loves him (not for nothing does fjord only realizes the depths of jester’s feelings when she uses heal on him). who are caduceus and fjord to each other? they are people who will fight for one another and the others as far as they can. fjord says over and over again that he wants to protect the nein and look out for them because he cares for them. he demonstrates it over and over again as well. caduceus says basically the same thing; he wants everyone safe and happily on their way and will stay until they are. he demonstrates this all the time as well. this is, i think, the first time that he demonstrates his dedication so unequivocally, free of the artifice of duty, fully committed through love. fjord recognizes this in caduceus and caduceus does in fjord.

i say this is a turning point because, while they don’t really have another super in depth conversation alone together, these two start clocking each other and openly help and look out for each other. there’s an ease and intimacy to the relationship after this. fjord watching caduceus swim near vokodo’s lair, fjord being ready to hand over his armor to caduceus when it looks like his won’t be ready, fjord, caduceus, and beau plotting behind jester’s back to keep her safe from the traveler, the absolute offense fjord takes to eadwulf after he spoke to caduceus like that, fjord levels up in paladin after caduceus tells him he’s proud to know him, all the way to the end of the show when fjord shelters the clerics and tells them to finish lucien, we get little moments like these from both of them. hell, caduceus is the first person in the campaign to tell fjord directly that he loves him.

#cr #critical role #cr meta #fjorclay #wildbros #fjord #caduceus clay #prim did theirs so i'm doing mine #in b4 the wrap-up #just barely #and ran out of steam at the end #i'll expand on that later #gotta finish my vm v m9 meta #and the cockroach party analysis

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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Do you think canon Zuko has any understanding of the idea of duty? That he, especially given that he aspires to political power, should act like his status as Prince gives him certain responsibilities? That doing what's best for the for Fire Nation or the world might require him to do things which make him unhappy or uncomfortable or require him to make grave personal sacrifices? Does he even understand duty as a concept?

Oof. Complicated questions, thus, this sat in my inbox for a veeeery long time.

I honestly, seriously, genuinely... don't think Zuko truly understood, at any point in canon, what it really meant to be a leader. I know many of us (and I think you, too?) don't particularly like the comics, but in my opinion, The Promise did a surprisingly decent job at highlighting several problems left in the wake of the end of the war, and perhaps unintentionally, this is one of the problems: upon becoming Fire Lord, Zuko is remarkably erratic, unsure of his choices, even seeking advice from his FATHER, of all people, because he has no idea what he's doing.

In the most favorable possible view of Iroh, he taught Zuko to be a better person. I don't entirely adscribe to this belief, but fine, let's concede that he did, or else this answer would never end: not just because you're a good person, however, are you guaranteed to be a good leader. Zuko, as we both know, is far from the best person in the world, and he is prone to making impulsive, emotional mistakes that can cause harm and trouble, and typically, Zuko doesn't face the consequences of most his actions, or the narrative just pins the blame on someone else. When we see this sort of behavior in a real-life politician, the immediate reaction we would have is "this guy is awful at his job", and sadly, I find myself thinking that quite often when it comes to Zuko's canon tenure as Fire Lord.

So... what is Zuko's concept of duty? Going by his pursuit of Aang in the first two seasons, duty is a task given to him by someone whose approval he seeks (in this case, Ozai) and he must pull it off, no matter what, to gain said approval. By Book 3, this logic still applies fairly easily to how Zuko acts over Iroh: I've highlighted in the past that the main motivation for Zuko's redemption is Iroh, doing right by Iroh, making amends to Iroh, regretting how he treated Iroh. He points that out explicitly in Ember Island Players, he does it as well indirectly by bringing up Iroh first of all, when confronting Ozai: this is his main priority. Ergo... I'd honestly say it's safe to judge that this is what Zuko regards as duty, as what he has to do. Iroh wants him to be Fire Lord? That's exactly what he becomes. The difficulties and complications in this particular line of work are taken for granted, and so, we have an outcome that was remarkably well depicted in The Promise, despite that comic's many glaring flaws: Zuko gets swept back and forth, twisted left and right by all the pressures and responsibilities, because he has no idea what he's doing as Fire Lord, and no idea/experience in how to be a real leader.

As far as I can tell, the core of the matter is that nobody really seems to have taken Zuko all that seriously as future Fire Lord. Ozai, evidently, wasn't training Zuko to be his personal heir. Ozai himself is a questionable source of information regarding learning what it means to be Fire Lord, considering he, as well, wasn't raised to take that role, just as he didn't raise Zuko for it. Yet Iroh didn't exactly teach Zuko how to lead anyone either, as far as I can tell: his lessons were meant to be of a more personal nature, and even then, Zuko had lots of trouble accepting most of them. Iroh's firebending lessons to Zuko were typically stunted in the basics because he was hot-headed and rash about getting to the intense and interesting stuff...

So: neither Ozai nor Iroh gave Zuko actual responsibilities. Ozai gave him a punishment Zuko was trying to endure however possible, a punishment he wanted to prove himself unworthy of by finding the Avatar and "regaining his honor". Then, Iroh punished Zuko as well by giving him the cold shoulder in Book 3, then he escaped and Zuko did everything he did, after betraying Ozai, to prove himself worthy of Iroh's kindness once again. It's not actual duty, the way it is in Azula's case: no doubt, Azula wants Ozai's approval too, but she has the madman's trust when it comes to finding her brother and uncle, to taking down the Avatar, and to conquering Ba Sing Se, as far as anyone can tell. I do doubt Ozai gave her all these missions at once, but he gave her the resources through which she pulled off ALL of them: she had the firebending procession, she had a ship, she had a train-tank, she had mounts... Zuko had a rundown ship that looked like a 1:10 scale version of every other ship in the harbor back in the very third episode: he was being punished. In contrast, Azula is entrusted with a mission, with LEADERSHIP, while Zuko has no visible, tangible, objective experience with the latter (consider how Azula steals the Dai Li's loyalty from under Long Feng: when did we see Zuko pulling off something like this? Even with Jet, Zuko was more of an associate to the Freedom Fighters, and Jet was still the leader).

I've always thought Zuko wasn't prepared to be Fire Lord, and the main reasons are the ones you indirectly point out through this ask: Zuko doesn't seem to treat the throne as a responsibility, but as his right. I won't get tired of pointing out that this was NOT Zuko's birthright, he was NOT born thinking he'd be Fire Lord: he was born to the second branch in the Fire Nation family. We literally SEE the day in which Lu Ten's death is revealed to him. According to somewhat official sources? He's ELEVEN in Zuko Alone's flashbacks. I, personally, think he looks a little younger than that, but I think that's the official wikia age, no idea where they got that info but that's what it says. Meaning...

Zuko, objectively, only had been crown prince for FIVE YEARS.

Zuko was NOT raised, not by his mother, not by his father, with the belief that the throne would one day be his (Ursa is gone before Ozai is crowned and Ozai clearly wanted Azula for the job rather than Zuko).

And yet, when you backtrack to the show? It seriously looks like that was the case. He clings to the throne in Books 1 and 2 as though he had no other purpose in life, as though this was everything that was promised to him (in contrast, Azula only ever indicates wanting the throne in Sozin's Comet: Part One). Even when he's an outlaw, discarded and cast out, he STILL talks about the throne, as though most his identity were built upon the notion that he must become Fire Lord: why? How come? Within five years, he's crafted his entire existence around being the heir to the throne? That's... a bit weird.

And a bit wishful, too. Which is why I commend that the comics show him struggling as Fire Lord, if anything they should've had him struggling MORE than that, because Zuko is simply NOT prepared for these responsibilities. He never gave any indication, any sign, of seeing it as such. He sees it as his right, his birthRIGHT. Why? Why more people don't ponder how utterly strange this behavior is, beats me. But it really does bother me that Zuko built his entire existence around being Fire Lord in a very similar way to how Korra built her own about being the Avatar. I have very little praise to give LOK in general, but the premise of Korra learning she was a person, a human, and not just the Avatar felt like the perfect parallel to Aang's story, where he was very much anchored in his humility and belief that he was just "one kid", and his rejection of his duties as the Avatar was meant to change gradually as he learned to accept himself as he was. Korra, however, never fully hit the mark with this subject, in my personal opinion... much as Zuko doesn't hit the mark either, since the show's only direct attempt to "deconstrue" Zuko's clinging to the throne happens in one dialogue, and his attachment to the idea is built up again, right afterwards:

Zuko: And then ... then you would come and take your rightful place on the throne? Iroh: No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko. Zuko: Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes. Iroh: Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation. Zuko: I'll try, Uncle.

And there we have it. The only point in the show (that I can remember) where Zuko seemed to not feel worthy of the throne and questioned he should be the one sitting on it (RIGHTFULLY!), buuuuuuuut he goes right back to wanting it, right afterwards, based on how this single exchange was enough for him to be 100% determined to take down his sister, merely a few lines later.

As for his willingness to make personal sacrifices... some might say he was outright willing to die for Katara in the finale -- though I'll point out he was trying to redirect the lightning anyway, didn't do it as well as he should have, but he wasn't exactly, consciously, trying to DIE for her... --, some might say that he left Mai behind in the FIre Nation, and that as well was a sacrifice... but was it? We don't see him missing her, or suffering about her fate, at any point in time after SHE sacrifices herself for him in the Boiling Rock (my biggest gripe over this particular canon couple is this, tbh). I feel like the show generally presents Zuko's situation as somewhat... self-sacrificial? Especially in Books 1 and 2, and yet that's really not the case: it isn't Zuko himself who makes the choice of traveling to find Aang, it's a punishment inflicted upon him.

This particular view upon his circumstances makes it so Zuko is never responsible for... well, any of his choices? It's always someone else's fault, therefore, whatever he suffers through, there's always someone he can (and usually does) resent for it. Therefore... I can't genuinely think of anything Zuko sacrificed in order to come as far as he did. He was forced to let go of things by his father, typically, by Zhao as well, maybe, but even then, it's not like we saw that he has a super healthy and happy relationship with, I don't know, Earth Kingdom people (his only meaningful positive EK bond was with Jin, which went nowhere and goes forgotten after a single mini episode)? The Palace staff? The commoners of the Fire Nation (they just treat him like a hero and he seems awkward and distant about it anyway, like he can really just do without their worship)? He doesn't have other friends beyond Azula's own friends... thus, he doesn't sacrifice anything that really matters. And in a sense, some people might say he doesn't have to sacrifice anything at all: he already went through so much strife and struggle that why would he need to sacrifice anything else? But the thing is... you DO have to learn to make such sacrifices if you're going to be a good king.

So often, people who devote themselves to their jobs have to consciously neglect their families, to name one thing: Zuko neglects Mai and she explodes at him for it in The Promise, then he just tries to get her back at all costs in Smoke & Shadow, with no thoughts given to the fact that maybe he isn't ready to juggle both a relationship and the throne, that maybe Mai could be happier with someone other than him, someone who can give her the attention and relationship she's looking for... THOSE are the sacrifices I'd be referring to, personally, sacrifices where his happiness and peace of mind have to be set aside for the sake of something much more important than himself, and I expect that's the kind of sacrifices you're referring to, too. I seriously don't think he's ready to make them, and with the comics as reference, there's seriously no evidence to suggest he's prepared to accept these burdens that come with the heavy mantle of leadership and ruling. I've never seen any signs of him being ready for it, myself. Maybe I need to reexamine the show and see if maybe I'm missing something... but I don't really think I am.

The worst part, for me, is that Zuko isn't even doing the bulk of the things he's doing in pursuit of genuine happiness: he's doing it over a sense of destiny. He never stops to reason with that destiny, to wonder if maybe he doesn't need to be Fire Lord, if maybe he could have a life beyond that role. Book 2 veeeery briefly suggests he MIGHT be on his way to questioning that destiny, but as I've said before, I don't see the sense in Zuko's big change of heart after the Appa incident considering we don't really understand what he's learned, other than how to be the perfect nephew for Iroh, apparently. Zuko never really is happy, as he says in the show: his happiest moments are with Mai and they're only like a 25% of his relationship with her, everything else is a mess (and his relationship with her isn't exactly the core of his character, either). So, the way I see it... Zuko is even worse off than it looks at first glance. He's out to fulfill a destiny he has never stopped to reason with, a destiny he's 100% sure is his, despite he has only been on that path, objectively, for five years? Despite he wasn't raised all along under the belief that this was what he was supposed to be? If given a chance to be genuinely happy, what on earth would he even do? A lot of the growth I gave him in Gladiator was based on that particular question: is the throne really what Zuko needs to be happy? It doesn't look like it, even in canon. If it's not... then it's not happiness he seeks, it's some sort of sense of assurance that he's doing the right thing, according to the figure of authority he follows at a set point in time: by Book 3, said authority is Iroh, and Iroh wants him on the throne. His motivation, as far as I can see it, is as simple as that.

Long story short... I don't think Zuko really has a strong grasp on many concepts that he absolutely should have reasoned with and worked out in order to become Fire Lord. In a sense, he's way too young for the role he's given, for the heavy burdens he has to deal with, and I'll NEVER see the sense in not having Iroh taking the throne (beyond how "poetic" the creators and writers found it to crown Zuko to finish his story, of course), at least for a short time, before Zuko can be ready. This is exactly why I wrote things that way in my oneshot where Azula takes Zuko's role, more or less: Iroh serves as regent while Azula prepares for taking the full role of Fire Lord when she's ready. I love her, she's awesome, I absolutely adore her character... but I don't think an Azula who was sidelined and sent on a long voyage with her uncle for YEARS could possibly be ready for the responsibilities of being Fire Lord right away.

Meanwhile? Iroh was given leadership of military missions enough times that he became a general in the Fire Nation forces. By all evidence, he was Fire Lord Azulon's pampered and spoiled son, whom he DID prepare for the duties of a Fire Lord for as long as Iroh was born: Iroh literally had fifty-ish years of preparation, as far as I can tell? How is he NOT the better suited person to take the throne, if just temporarily, while his nephew learns what it really means to rule by watching him, or by maybe learning leadership by managing smaller duties first, a specific town or city, and then putting his knowledge to good use by becoming Fire Lord properly?

Eh... because it wouldn't be an epic enough finale for the show, I suppose. That's the only answer I can find for this particular question.

So... yeah. That got long :'D but in short... I don't think Zuko has a strong grasp on responsibility and duty, let alone on the burdens inherent to these concepts. Yet more reasons why his character's arc can't hit all the marks it should, imo, to make it as great as the whole fandom is already convinced it is.

#zuko-always-lies #more zuko meta #and it got long #:'D #if anyone needs a read more #let me know and I'll add it #but for now #it is what it is #you know it really is sad to write all this when I'm more or less making peace with Zuko via Gladiator #and actually making him reason with soooo much stuff #that he never really had to in the show #*siiiiigh*#he'll never be my fav #that much is obvious #but he could be MORE #and it's sad that he's not #very sad

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princeescaluswords · 3 years

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Why does the fairly well adjusted, kindhearted teenager with no training in using lethal force not use lethal force? Hmmm? Got you there, Scott fans!!!!!

Interesting observation. It’s like you watched the show!

Someone was talking to me, last night in fact, that they believe there’s a reason many fans don’t like Scott. They said that many parts of the fandom resent that the show, in its lead, rejected “their preferred narrative of worshiping inherited power and/or power attained through violence.” I can’t really argue with it. I tend to focus on the racial aspect of fandom dislike, yet I think that they’re interrelated. It’s not just that Scott rejects the possibility of succeeding through lethal violence, it’s that he rejects it when doing so is not offered to white characters.

There are white male characters in the show who not only possess the capacity for lethal violence, they employ it as often as they can, yet it’s never shown as a victory. Peter murders ten people, even criminals in police custody, even innocent people, even allies, even family members, and it’s never portrayed as triumphant. Even his executions of Jennifer and the Mute are portrayed as signs of incipient madness and bloody horror. Derek fails miserably at trying to kill people other than his own family member which brings him nothing put pain, and loses his replacement pack in the process. Matt is more successful, but his motivations are shown as rather pathetic deficiencies in his personality. Gerard keeps getting screwed by his own strategies. Stiles is almost destroyed by the lethal violence he grasps for in desperation.

To these parts of the audience, that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Think about other examples of supernatural shows on television: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, True Blood, The Vampire Diaries, the Originals, etc. Violence -- especially death in judgement -- is the prerogative of protagonists. In fact, one of the ways they mark the protagonist in these shows is the casualness of how they approach lethal violence. How many times did Buffy casually kill vampire extras like an afterthought? Don’t get me wrong, I love BTVS, but Buffy’s execution of vampires is ultimately reduced to something banal, like brushing her teeth.

Connected to this is a number of tropes that they love, especially that of aristocratic or superior white men -- deprived of their rightful place or recognition in the world -- conquering those who oppress them and punishing them, even killing them, and thus they reassert justice in the world. It’s literally written into the genetics of fiction that the hero kills the villain.

Yet, the audience has trouble remembering that the biggest victim -- though not the only victim -- of Season 1 is Scott McCall. He had a life -- not a great one, but not a bad one either -- he had hopes and dreams. He didn’t want to sit on the sidelines anymore, he wanted to play first line and he worked for it. His father was neglectful, but he had a great mom and a fantastic best friend.

When Peter chooses him to become his murder assistant, it all goes downhill from there. He lies to his mother. He stalks Stiles in the locker room and disappoints him repeatedly due to his lycanthropy. It threatens his relationship with Allison. Derek manipulates him and uses him to hunt and kill the alpha. Peter violates him and threatens his loved ones. The Argent parents’ whole purpose in life is to kill him. This injustice can’t be solved through lethal violence; this injustice is caused by lethal violence.

And yet, the audience gets confused when he tells Deucalion “I’m not like you. I don’t have to kill people.” It just doesn’t occur to them (the villains or parts of the fandom) that Scott simply doesn’t want to be forced to do to others what was done to him. People complain that he’s a hypocrite because he makes first line due to his werewolf abilities while disliking being a werewolf, as if he’s supposed to stop playing and focus on being the Hale Family’s newest servant in gratitude. Yeah, he gets power, but the cost is constantly too high, such as when Stiles compliments Erica’s appearance in Season 2, and Scott says “How good do you think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?” Scott’s breaking the established script the audience expected, where he learns to relish his power over others. When Derek manipulates Scott into believing that he has to kill the alpha to be human again, Scott’s determination to do it is not presented as Scott’s decision to serve justice but as Scott’s desperation to make the nightmare end.

Yet it doesn’t end, does it? Do we ever see Scott have a season enjoying first line at all? Do you think he loved being a werewolf when he held Allison’s dead body in his arms or watched Kira join the Skin-walkers? When he used his supernatural hearing to listen to his mother cry or Dr. Geyer struggle to save her life? When he watched Derek fall from the ledge in the mall and think it was his fault? He rejected the capacity to do lethal violence to others as a way of reasserting justice in the world because he never saw the use of violence successfully restore anything. Peter’s defeat in Season 1 and 4 ended a nightmare -- it didn’t erase the monumental changes to his and his friend’s lives, the horror they lived through. Matt died miserably; Gerard died miserably; Jennifer died miserably; Derek gathered more pain into himself. No one lived happily ever after because they could kill the people who hurt them -- they just continued the cycle.

Scott’s development as a protagonist -- and, not coincidentally, his subversiveness as a character in an action-adventure show -- hinges on his increasing capability to employ lethal violence as a corrective, while constantly repudiating it as anything but an unfortunate and painful necessity. Do you notice that he never talks about or takes pride in the defeat of his enemies? Not Peter, not Derek, not Gerard, not Jennifer, not the Nogitsune, not Kate or Theo or The Beast or Douglas or the Anuk Ite. He defeats them and then he’s done. There’s no celebration of the defeat of the enemies, like Ewoks dancing while burning stormtrooper helmets at the end of Return of the Jedi. He employs violence when he has to, he regrets the necessity, but he doesn’t dwell on what they did to him. Instead, he has hope for Peter and Deucalion and Theo.

Why? Because the motivation to reassert justice in the world by punishing enemies - the privilege of other heroes - is what ruined his life in the first place. Lethal violence invaded his life and changed it, down to his very nature. He’s never going to treasure it. He’s never going to turn to it first. Why should he?

#scott mccall #scott mccall defense squad #teen wolf meta #teen wolf racism #fandom racism #brydeswhale

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 15

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639152911075672064/odins-ward-chapter-14

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 3182

Warnings: None

True age: Y/n: 1449 // Loki: 1575 // Thor: 1827 // Audunn 3213

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 23 // Loki: 25 // Thor: 29// Audunn: 51

Y/n’s POV

I bite off a piece of bread, if only to appease my hovering maidservant. Periodically, Frigga attempts to broach a talking subject, but I fear I am not a good partner for conversation. No, my mind is too filled with fears for my home, for my father, and, annoyingly, for Loki, who is nowhere to be found.

“Why doesn’t he dine with us?” The question blurts from my lips before I register my interruption of Frigga’s sentence. I apologize sheepishly, feeling bad for not only cutting off a queen, but a woman I greatly respect.

Frigga only smiles softly without judgement, seeming to intend to indulge my question. “He thinks himself too proud or too far removed from our family to be with us—no doubt as a result of the hurt he’s suffered. He sees his absence as a punishment for us when, in truth, it is a punishment for himself as well.”

I sigh, sinking deeper in my chair, the tasteless bread falling from my fingers. Ragna, attentive as always, takes this as an opportunity to put a bowl of bright red fruit in front of me.

“Please eat, My Lady.” Her care for me is what ultimately leads to me taking a bite. Bland, but I continue nibbling in order to ease her worry. In truth, though, I do not anticipate having much of an appetite until a significant number of my fears are assuaged.

“Have you any word from Odin or Thor? Or my father? It has been over a day since they departed.”

Frigga shakes her head. “With regret, I have nothing to report.”

Under the table, my leg begins to shake. “I hope they’re alright and successful in putting an end to the rebellion. My people cannot survive many more hours of this slaughter.”

Frigga leans forward, queenly authority washing over her words. “As a wife and mother, I worry for Odin and Thor. But as a queen, I have little concern. Asgard’s army has defeated much more formidable foes than your husband. I have no doubt this will result in a victory for Asgard and for your people.”

Her words and the conviction behind them do calm me slightly.

She sees this, and seems to seize on the opportunity. “But let us talk of lighter things. It has been over three hundred years since I last saw you. Tell me—how has your life been since your wedding?”

I exhale heavily without meaning to.

I have no desire to tell Frigga about the abuse from my husband and the scorn from Court, nor the stark isolation I feel nearly every day. So I decide to gloss over as much as I can, and relay only the good parts of my life in Alfheim.

“Our summers in Alfheim are very mild—barely hotter than spring. It makes for long, lovely days full of picnics and outdoor games, time on the lake, then perhaps a dance or two under the stars. Alfheim thrives in the night, you know. Our castle, our clothing, even our people are the most beautiful in the moonlight. Connecting with the people of Court has been a bit of a struggle, but the common folk seem to love me, even if they do not know me, not really….but they throw flowers outside my carriage when I visit the towns, and even named a library after me in the main village. It’s nice to feel that sense of community, even if I cannot be around it all the time.” At this, I look at my hands, not wanting Frigga to see the sadness in my eyes. Because, despite the clearly awful parts of my existence away from Asgard, there are bright, shining, beautiful moments in my life in Alfheim. These glimmers are what would get me through the day.

And they are what tear my heart apart now as I think of my homeworld being ripped to shreds by civil war and brutality.

Frigga hears some of what I leave unsaid. She squeezes my hand gently and places the lightest of touches under my chin, encouraging me to look up at her. “My dear, do not be saddened. Here you will find community in those closest to you, there is no need to be so isolated.” My heart, which had fluttered in hope at her words, quickly falls with her next. It seems everyone, even those I love and trust, see me as just a means to produce an heir. “It took Odin and I many centuries to conceive. And when nature failed us, another child came to us in the most unconventional, but no less miraculous, way. Alfheim lacks progressiveness, but Asgard suffers no such fault. In your own time, you and my son will produce the most wonderful child, I know that deep in my heart. But until then, Asgard will wait patiently. Do not let the fear of retribution mar your time here. And do not let your heart be weighed down with a desire unmet—everything happens in its time.”

Loki’s POV

The stone of the wall bites into my fingers as I grip it with unwise force.

Around the corner my mother—my very own mother—encourages the woman I once loved in her future quest to have a child with my brother.

A bitter taste grows in my mouth.

And although I know Y/n does not want to marry Thor—anyone could see that in the way she protested—there is real pain in her eyes.

Pain that I have caused.

I do not know if she aches with the longing for a child. But it’s not a difficult task to surmise the isolation and ridicule she has no doubt been subject to for the last two and a half centuries has weighed on her.

Preventing conception was her decision, yes, but I was the one who made it possible. I put the magic on her, effectively ruining any chance she ever had at being accepted in her home. And if she ever did want a child, but found herself unable, well, I bear the blame for that hurt, too.

It seems no matter what I do, I cannot help but destroy the lives of those I’m supposed to love.

I was so close to entering the dining hall and joining them for breakfast—the first meal I would have shared with my mother in over seven months—but I had heard the end of their conversation before making my presence known.

It’s better that way.

I do not know how well I would have reacted, had I been in their company upon hearing the conversation between Y/n and my mother.

The sound of trumpets interrupts my thoughts, and I teleport away mere seconds before Y/n races by.

Y/n’s POV

The news of Asgard’s victory is unfathomably welcome.

When I hear it, I can’t help but fall to my knees, releasing a shout of joy and thanks to Odin himself, a man I, in fact, really don’t care for.

Thor quickly escorts me away for what he calls a ‘debrief’, but I can see by the set of his shoulders it is more of a transition into spending one-on-one time in our new capacity as fiancés. And while nerves and resentment rattle my stomach, I follow him willingly, eager to hear of the path to victory and how Alfheim fares now.

He wastes little time. The moment we are in the privacy of the gardens, he speaks.

“Your father is alive and well, do not fear. His loyal guardsmen managed to keep Audunn’s forces at bay, though I fear it would been a different outcome if we had not arrived when we did. You did well getting to us so quickly.”

The compliment is unexpected and, I feel, undeserved. “All I really did was relay a message. I am quite thankful, then, to you, your father, and your army for coming so quickly to Alfheim’s aid. Surely this will cement positive diplomatic relations for years to come.”

A strange look crosses through his eyes as he looks away from me, choosing instead to squint into the sun. “Spoken like a politician. I see you learned much in your time away.”

I catch the edge to his voice. “You do not approve?”

“I didn’t say that, I only mean that it is…unusual in Alfheim for women to be so involved.”

I fight the urge to scoff bitterly. “I wouldn’t have called myself involved—Father and Audunn would have none of that—but I did pick up some tricks and knowledge in my three hundred years there.”

There’s a slight pause. In that pause, Thor seems to steel himself. I know instantly that I will not like whatever he has to say next. “I wanted to tell you, ah—while your father was successfully restored to the regency, we were able to capture and imprison Audunn rather than having to resort to killing him on the field. He is here, in the dungeons, and will stand trial tomorrow.”

My blood runs cold. “Here? In the castle? Why didn’t you kill him?!” The words come out in breathless gasps, and Thor takes a step towards me in concern.

“You need not fear, Lady Y/n, he is securely guarded. He poses no threat to your father or your people any more.”

Yes. I swallow. But now that we are in the same place once again, I worry of the threat he poses to me.

Thor attempts to continue our walk with lighter conversation, but I don’t pay him much mind. All I can focus on is the terrifying reality that, as long as Audunn lives, my own life is in danger.

Loki’s POV

When the moon is high in the sky and the air has turned crisp, I acknowledge the reality that I will get no sleep tonight.

Groaning, I fling the covers from my body and exit my warm bed, dressing quickly. As soon as I’m decent, I exit my chambers, heading straight for the library. I have plenty of books in my room, but nothing I haven’t already read. The library is likely to have a variety of unexplored distractions.

I enter the vast library and turn left, heading for the history section—one of my favorites. I round the corner and am met with a sharp gasp and the sound of clattering books as Y/n jumps back, hitting a shelf.

Surprise and self-loathing mingle within me. She’s terrified of me.

Without really deciding to, I take a step back, showing my lack of intent to harm her. “I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you.”

She exhales, lowering the shaking hands that had come to grip her stomach. “N-no, it is I who should apologize. I….thought you were someone else.”

I raise my eyebrow, buying time as I calculate the truth of her statement. She does seem to be relaxing. Now all that remains is the faint hint of embarrassment in her features. She even offers me a small smile, one that I find unexpectedly welcome. I decide to believe her. “Don’t worry about it. I understand your nerves must be frayed, given all that you’ve been through.” Flashes of what she must have experienced in the past four days come to the forefront of my mind, unbidden. Handled roughly, a dirty jail cell, a hit that would explain the coloring on her lower jaw, the fear as she sneaks through the castle, praying she goes unnoticed—

“Are you alright?”

There’s a note in her voice that suggests some of her apprehension has returned, and I can guess why. My body has gone completely rigid, my fists clenched tightly, and I’m sure I’ve just fixated on the nearest object with a death glare—I can only hope I didn’t direct it at her.

I try to recover the moment. “I’ll get those books.”

She hurriedly drops to the ground, grabbing novels at random. “Let me, Your Highness, I’m the one who—”

I sink next to her and smirk, for some reason desperate to dissolve this strange uncertain air between us. “Last night you barge into my chambers unannounced and tonight we’re back to the formalities?”

She studies me for a moment, looking quite perplexed. Then, she exhales a shaky bark of a laugh. “I suppose so.”

Fair enough.

I straighten, beginning to alphabetize the books and put them back in their proper place. She follows suit, working beside me in silence. I don’t miss the glances she gives me when she thinks I’m not looking. The looks are full of uncertainty, full of trepidation—she has no idea where we stand. For that matter, neither do I.

But there’s no use in finding out, the snide voice within me remarks. She’s engaged to your brother. You will have no chance to know her again as you did once, long ago.

But still, as since the moment she burst through the throne room doors, I war with myself.

I do not want to love her. I have no claim to her. Pursuing her would only lead to heartbreak, and I fear I cannot take any more.

If I were smart, I would push her away as I do everyone else.

I should push her away.

“Why are you in the library so late?” Her voice, stronger now, clouds my head once more and pulls me into conversation.

I have no desire to detail or even acknowledge my crippling nightmares, so I turn the question back on her, hoping to save myself the humiliation of admitting weakness. “I could ask you the same thing.”

She is equally eager to explain her reasonings, and quickly changes the subject. “I saw Lady Naerys this morning. Can you believe she has seven children?”

I chortle, and the sound feels strange coming from my throat. “But alas, not one of them fathered by a prince.” Without really meaning to, I take a step closer to her.

Y/n mocks distress. “But how will she ever become queen now?”

And just like that, we’re back on a subject we both would like to avoid.

I try to steer us away. “I admit that I was pleased when I heard news of your father’s safe return to the regency. You must be very relieved.”

But despite my efforts, a strange look takes over her face. “Yes, I am more relieved than you know.”

I press further, finding myself desperate to know what she’s thinking. “Audunn’s trial will be interesting. I estimate spectators will extend well past the boundaries of the courtroom.”

Again, I have misstepped. The color drains from her face and her hands immediately wring together in tight knots. It seems I have completely forgotten how to speak to this woman I once knew so well. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to—”

“It’s fine.” She cuts me off, staring at my shoulder rather than my face. She takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is hard, almost as if she’s willing the words to be true. “Soon Audunn will be dead. And all will be well.”

Something in her voice tells me that she is trying harder to convince herself than me.

The desire to comfort her is strong, but I am woefully out of practice. “I…do not see an outcome in which Audunn survives, yes. His choices were unfortunate, and put him at odds with the interests of two of the nine realms. Odin will not let that go unpunished.” I fight against a scowl. Because if anyone had been listening, they would’ve guessed I was talking about myself.

She surprises me with a tight smile. “Yes, you are right. This time tomorrow, Audunn’s execution will be set.”

Again, there’s that hard edge to her voice, one that wasn’t there the last time I encountered her. Whereas before it amused me, now it makes me feel sad. There’s no reason both of us had to be affected so by the world—Fate did that out of cruelty. Perhaps tomorrow after the trial, when her anxieties are further resolved, she will find some peace.

I think to the upcoming trial. She will be asked to bear witness, of course. But I worry of Odin fulfilling his duty to prepare her. I take matters into my own hands. “You know you will be asked to testify against him.”

“Yes.” The word is harsh, quick. But then she looks to the ground and stretches a hand absently to the bookshelf, almost as if she’s seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance from the touch. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more vulnerable. “I find no pleasure in sending a man to his death. But I will speak honestly. Audunn dug his own grave—it is just my unfortunate duty to send him to it.”

I swallow, unsure of what to say. The last time I saw her, she spoke of no love for her husband, but this seems different…a deeper hurt, somehow. Part of me wants to ask what happened, but a larger part knows I haven’t the right. We are not lovers, we are not friends, and she is currently a married woman. When her status is changed upon the execution of her husband, she will immediately become the betrothed of my brother. So rather than risk hurt and vulnerability, I keep her at arms length. “I would advise you to get some rest, Lady Y/n. I have no doubt tomorrow will be a long and difficult day.”

She avoids my eyes as she curtsies and exits the library. Once she’s gone, I take a much needed deep breath. Something about her presence made the expansive library seem incredibly small, intimate. When she’d gone to curtsey, she’d needed to take a step back, as we had gotten quite close during our discussion.

With a groan, I practically stumble to the bannister overlooking the basement archives, gripping the wood tightly. Attachment to Y/n has never been a good idea, least of all now. But even after many breaths to clear my head, I still find that unwelcome feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that nearly begs me to follow her from the room and pull her into my arms.

I slam my hand on the wood, startling one of the bookkeepers on the level below. Upon seeing who stands above him, he shrinks away, quickly gathering his books and scurrying out of sight.

That’s right, I think, bitterness bringing an unpleasant taste to my mouth. Run from me. I am dangerous. I am other. No one is safe with me.

Least of all a kind, wonderful woman who, even after hundreds of years, seems to hold the ability to ruin me in the palm of her hand.

A/n Hey guys, sorry for any mistakes! I proofread but I feel like I probably missed something because I’m tired. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list! What do you think of the conversation with Loki? How do you think Audunn’s trial will go? Stay safe out there :)

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/642883586082635777/odins-ward-chapter-16

Masterlist

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki @jooordanharrrop @marsbarsboy @damondallysodapopstiles

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wygolvillage · 3 years

Text

have you ever wanted to read a rewrite of the plot of castlevania: lament of innocence that replaced leon with sonia (bc lets face it she deserves better), doesnt overuse the dead wife trope, and has LESBIANS IN IT??? NO??? well too bad here it is

fair warning it might be a bit cringe? im hardly a writer lmao

Sonia Belmont was a peasant girl of insignificant origin, however, she found herself at conflict with a nobleman after her dear friend Sara Trantoul was arranged for a marriage with Count Mathias Cronqvist, who lived not far from her village in a remote castle that few dared to visit. Sara, however, did not wish to marry into nobility, let alone marry a man, and Sonia helped her make an escape to another town.

Mathias was furious with jealousy and rage, and pursued Sonia. They did battle, and Sonia was the victor: Count Mathias Cronqvist was dead. However, having killed a man of significant power and renown, Sonia was now wanted for murder, and she opted to hide her identity so as to not arouse suspicion. She tried to convince Sara to leave her side, out of fear that they may be found due to her previous connection to the Count, however Sara refused out of love for Sonia.

Sonia became a vigilante knight, trying to do battle against injustices in the world in whatever way she could. She often would have to take trips across the countryside to pursue those she thought wrongdoers, often other men in positions of authority like the detestable Count who had targeted her dear Sara.

In 1094 she received a letter informing her of a man named Walter Bernhardt who had been kidnapping townsfolk, however when she arrived at his palace she found it empty. In fact, the letter had been a trap, and when she returned to her home she found Sara gone- with signs of a struggle. When she asked around the town where Sara had been taken, all the answers pointed to the dilapidated castle near the village where she and Sara had grown up.

The Count was dead, of course... There was no way he could be behind this. Still, she followed this guidance, and found that the area around the castle was covered in thick trees and darkness, and her hometown was no more, enveloped by a forest of eternal night. Curiously, the castle was no longer in the crumbling state it had been left in, but instead looked as if it had been built the previous day. One man remained in a shop in the forest, someone who Sonia had known years ago before she had killed Mathias: Rinaldo Gandolfi. He recognizes her, and tells her to stay away from such an awful place, and that his whole family was slaughtered by the vampire that lived there. She refuses, stating her intentions to rescue Sara, and Rinaldo acquiesces. However, he does let her know that should she need any goods for her quest, he will provide them. He gives her a whip said to be able to kill vampires.

Rinaldo explains that he spotted the vampire with a large crystal that was the source of the darkness, and that as an alchemist he theorized it was connected to legends of a Crimson Stone that can impart great power to one who pursues a path of evil, and to be wary. He also stated that the crystal was what had restored the castle to its current state.

Sonia enters the castle and finds it infested with horrible monsters. She fights through the mindless horde, but after facing a first boss, a mysterious red headed vampire appears in the room and identifies himself as Walter Bernhardt. He taunts her a bit with an unwinnable boss fight, says she’ll never find Sara and teleports away.

Sonia pursues Walter through the castle’s various areas such as the House of Sacred Remains and Anti-Soul Mysteries Lab, but is ultimately unfruitful in her search, often being led through the mazes only to find traps with terrifying monsters laying in wait. At one point she tries to confront Walter and he drops her into a pit containing the Forgotten One, and has to fight her way out.

Eventually, after completing the castle’s areas, she finds Sara, but finds that she’s too late, and that Sara has been turned into a vampire. Sara laments her fate, terrified that she’s lost her humanity. Sonia escorts her out of the castle to be cared for by Rinaldo, horrified at what Walter has done and furious at him.

She storms through the castle once more, heading for the Throne Room to confront Walter. However, when she defeats him, he reveals that it was not him who turned Sara- it was his master who had orchestrated the whole thing. Walter dies of his wounds soon after, and Sonia wonders who Walter’s master was- though she does not have to wonder for long.

Mathias Cronqvist, revived from the grave as a vampire by the pure evil in his heart, then reveals himself.

“Sonia,” he begins. “I want you to understand that you took everything from me. My life, and the only woman I thought was worthy of my grace.”

“You’re a monster,” Sonia spits in his face. “You stole much more from her than I ever stole from you.”

“I loved her, Sonia, just as you do. Now she and I can be together forevermore, and you will be punished for your sins.”

“How can you claim to love her?! You’ve never loved, and you never will! True love does not drive people to hurt!” Sonia then attacks him.

The ensuing fight is a near-equal match, and Sonia eventually prevails, but is grievously wounded. Just as she thinks it’s over, Mathias pulls out a large red orb from the wall behind the throne, one that Sonia now realizes is the Crimson Orb Rinaldo spoke of. The roof of the castle opens, and the full moon shines upon the glistening orb in his hands. As he does this, the castle begins to crack apart as the crystal had been removed.

“The blood spilt in the village you called home, and the despair all around us... This shall give me strength! Even Death will be at my command!” He announces to the sky, and the orb begins to emit a horrible red light. “After all... the Dark Lord is given power by the negativity in the hearts of mankind. All that fury and hatred for me will only be your downfall.”

He is then transformed into the ultimate force of all evil, the Dark Lord. He takes on the name Count Dracula, abandoning his former humanity.

Sonia cannot hope to win, but she fights on in exhaustion in the midst of the crumbing castle. Dracula laughs as she collapses. Sonia spits out blood, and in her assumed dying moments as Dracula approaches, she curses his name and tells him, in an oddly prophetic way, that one day he shall experience true loss, his children shall turn against him, and her descendants will cheer on his downfall.

Dracula is enraged by her words, and is about to deal the final blow before Sara jumps in front of her. Sara tells Dracula to let her live, or else kill her as well.

Out of perceived "love" for Sara, Dracula lets the two women go, and Sara carries Sonia to safety as the castle falls to eternal ruin. The fog of eternal darkness recedes from the forest and the sun rises as they meet up with Rinaldo.

Sara retreats into the shadows to avoid the sun's rays, but Sonia follows, telling her that no matter what she will go wherever she leads her.

"But I am inhuman. I am a monster, just as Walter and Dracula were." Sara avoids her gaze.

"To be inhuman is to reject love and kindness and to seek evil ends. Dracula made that choice himself... And you have chosen to save me." Sonia embraces her tightly.

"You love me, despite my newfound home in the night..."

"If the night is your home, so it is mine. The Belmont family shall henceforth walk the path of shadows in pursuit of the Dark Lord... and we will hunt the night for eternity."

And then the credits roll yaaaay

After the credits it is stated that Sonia has had a child, and though that child shares the cursed fate of a Belmont and a bloodsoaked lineage of a vampire, that child will one day be hailed as a hero.

The End :)

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rocket-remmy · 3 years

Text

Dead Weight || Morgan and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Remmy comes to see Lydia. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mention

Staying at the clinic wasn’t really viable after a spriggan healing up from a pickpocket scheme gone wrong kept referring to Morgan as Deirdre’s pet bottom feeder, so by the time evening fell, they were both installed back in their house on the East End. Deirdre was asleep, or trying to relive some memory by staring at the wall, Morgan couldn’t tell which. But Deirdre wasn’t cognizant enough to hold a five minute conversation, so bringing her down for Remmy’s visit seemed like a bad idea. Morgan was worried about bringing the ashes down with her as it was.

Staring at the vase, Morgan couldn’t help but wonder if this had been made by one of her captives. And what about the art restoration? The rest of her work? The good Lydia had done was as real as anything, but what was left? It felt like with each conversation she had, more of it crumbled away. She’d had this whole elaborate life, so elaborate Morgan didn’t even know half of it existed, and yet what remained felt like no more than the ash in this stupid, creepy vase.

She recognized Remmy’s quiet knock at once, but her limbs moved clumsily to the door. She fumbled with the lock, even though she’d turned it with just a flick of her wrist hundreds of times before. “Hey,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, from before.” I just keep fucking up with you, don’t I? “Come in, I put her vase in the Great Room.”

Lydia was dead. Lydia, who apparently kidnapped people and held them hostage and abused them. Lydia, who fed off humans and called them cattle and barely batted an eye at their pain. And Lydia, who was soft and gentle when Remmy needed someone most. Lydia, who had come to love them even though they were a zombie and she was a fae. Lydia, who had sold out her own species’ secrets to save them, who had let them kill another fae, and never loved them less for it. Lydia, who was so horribly good to Remmy, that the pain of her truth still tore at their unbeating heart every second of every day. They had decided, when they’d left, that they needed to stand their ground with her. They needed to figure themself out, first, before coming back to try and work something out with her. But now...she was gone. That eternity that they were supposed to have was cut short. And now, not only did Remmy have to decide how to confront the reality of their own immortality, but the reality that now they had to live that length with their decision. With the last words they’d ever said to Lydia being that they would never forgive her. They were written in digital stone and no amount of crying would ever erase them.

Morgan’s door was oddly painful to look at. Remmy screwed up their face in any attempt to seem put together before knocking, but found it wholly unsuccessful, folding the second they saw Morgan’s face appear behind the door. “Vase?” was all they managed to say, following her in. They meandered in the direction that she pointed, turning the corner and-- stopping. It was just a heart shaped vase. Whatever was left of her was inside of that, and...that was it. That was all that was left of Lydia. After everything she’d done and everything she’d been, this was all she was now. Remmy didn’t move. “That’s...it?” they croaked, eyes glued to the vase, even as their voice searched for Morgan or an answer or something. “That’s all?”

Morgan held herself steady as she lead Remmy through the house. They knew the way as well as she did after staying for so many weeks, but the familiarity between them was strained. The last thing she’d done with them before Lydia died was send them away. She couldn’t shoulder their disappointment, their betrayal, while waiting for them to walk away from her instead. She liked her losses to be clear and solid. But watching Remmy’s heart break snapped the distance shut, a rubber band falling back into shape. Remmy was the only one who could feel Lydia’s death the way she did. Remmy saw her in that basement. Remmy knew how cruelly apathetic she’d been to Chloe. And Remmy knew how even Lydia’s laugh sounded sophisticated, and the glow of her smile, and how patient she could be even when she was irritated, how...absurdly, horrifically wonderful. Morgan slid into their side and gripped their hand. “She was trying to leave town,” she murmured, her voice already falling apart. “I haven’t asked Deirdre for the specifics but I heard...she called us right before, maybe even right as it was happening and I heard…” Screaming. Broken, anguished screaming she would give anything to un-know. Lydia didn’t beg or sob like that when she was herself. She was articulate and proud, a masterpiece in an exhibition. Even when it was just the two of them, she’d tried to hold herself up for Morgan and Morgan let her. She couldn’t think of that pride now without hearing the shrill, keening sound of her death crackling over the phone. “It was awful, Remmy. I don’t know how they did it, but it was awful and this was how we found her…”

Remmy stood still in the doorway, unable to cross the threshold. They didn’t want to know how horrible Lydia’s death had been because it made their heartache and they didn’t want it to. Lydia was ostensibly a bad person, but that didn’t mean she was irredeemable, right? She’d hurt so many people, she didn’t deserve forgiveness, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have changed or gotten better or something. But someone else had decided she wasn’t worth it. Again, someone had taken away another person’s choice. Again, someone had stolen a life from the world because they believed their actions were justified. Because they believed death was the only answer. Remmy squeezed Morgan’s hand so tight the bones bent. “Why is this place so violent?” they asked, not sure who they were speaking to anymore. They supposed Morgan, considering she was the only other one in the room. A space filled with three dead souls but only two still standing. “Why is it always death?”

Morgan squeezed Remmy back, just as hard. “It’s the whole world, Remmy. It’s everything we can’t escape. We break things and we lose things and everywhere you turn it’s life or death. That’s the rules for people like us.” She swallowed thickly, looking at the vase again. It was almost the same color as Lydia’s ashes. However they’d been made, they’d been burned so fine, almost perfect. “I know I...you and I are different. I know that. And for me, maybe if it had just been a fight, maybe if some hunter had found out how she was and decided to stop her and she’d gone down fighting him over it, it wouldn’t feel so…” Wrong. Morgan shook her head, cringing as the memory of Lydia’s pain echoed in her ears again. “We stayed on the phone until the battery gave out. It was awful, she was hurt so bad you could hear it. It wasn’t a fight, and I think I hate that the most. In a fucking back alley. She was leaving town…” But Morgan could feel her excuses and her fear choking her. She hated the pain she wasn’t able to unhear. She hated how imbalanced it seemed, everything Lydia was reduced to trash. But even if Kaden had killed her himself, if he had shot her and made it quick. “I miss her,” Morgan whispered. “I hate her and I love her and I miss her, Remmy. I think I was going to feel that no matter what. Is that bad?”

All Remmy could do was listen. The words fell out of their head like water. There was nothing solid there to hold onto. Nothing made any of this better. Lydia was bad, but she hadn’t deserved to suffer like that. No one did. There was always so much suffering, so much pain. It was just a cycle that kept going and going and going and Remmy was drowning in it. They let go of Morgan’s hand and finally walked forward, with purpose, kneeling at the table and reaching out to touch the vase. They thought maybe it would feel warm, somehow, warm and comforting, like Lydia’s arms always had been. But it was cold. Cold and grainy, like how Lydia really was underneath everything else. For all Remmy knew, this could’ve been her heart. Frozen and cold and clay. Their hands wrapped around it tightly as they held it in place, but did not move it. Tears burned in their eyes again. They did not want to cry for her, but knowing how she’d died, screaming and suffering and alone, their heart couldn’t hold back. A small crack appeared in the vase by the palm of their hand and Remmy let go of it as if it were suddenly alight with flame. They dug their palms deep into their eyes, fingers clenching their head, and crumpled forward, sobbing with a horrible grief that tore them apart. They had no words. Just sobs and grief and pain.

Morgan whimpered at the sound of the vase cracking. For a second it felt like Lydia’s body, shattering again. Stars above, she couldn’t bring herself to ask what was done to her, what could make her scream like that. She rushed to Remmy, putting her body between them and the table where Lydia sat. It didn’t feel like rest, looking at her disintegrated beyond recognition. It looked like more punishment. Morgan bundled Remmy in her arms and held them tight, as tight as she ever had. Bone bending, skin puncturing tight. They could take it. They both could. And whatever strain their backs carried, it wasn’t anything compared to what was inside them. “I’m sorry,” Morgan wept. “It should’ve been different…” The killing. The way she’d given Remmy the news. Lydia herself. There wouldn’t even have been something to punish if she had just listened and… “I’m sorry, Remmy. She’s gone and I’m so sorry.” Sorry she didn’t have any answers. Sorry she didn’t have courage to ask for any names from Deirdre’s death vision. Sorry she couldn’t have come up with a better way to get the people out, a way that would’ve left Lydia alive, with hope. “I’m sorry…” There was nothing else to say, nothing else to be, so Morgan held Remmy tighter and cried with them.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: morgan #dead weight #morgan #//short but sweet!#well.....not sweet but u know

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hannidae · 4 years

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The Value of Forgiveness

Why Reylo is one of the most valuable elements of Star Wars Mythology

And why Disney should not let Reylo end with The Rise of Skywalker if it wants to take the moral high ground.

As an American, I’d like to suggest that Americans have a lot to learn from Rey and Ben. Forgiveness, hope, and redemption, while recognized as nice ideas, are so often not given the deference they deserve. Instead, we’re so much more focused on the pursuit of justice and power, which reflected in film leads to resolutions like Kylo Ren’s/Ben Solo’s death. Or, in real life, leads to paradigms like those present in American criminal justice.

We are doing an unarguably terrible job with criminal justice and reform. We are not forgiving or empathetic as a society. Our justice systems cling to our grudges and desire for punishment when nothing good can come of it. I can only hope that we can recognize our faults, learn, and grow--with a little help from film and story-telling.

As does all good mythology, Star Wars presents morals. The intentions in the sequel trilogy are *ahem* perhaps less thoughtfully crafted than the previous trilogies, but there’s still something to be learned. In TRoS specifically, moral guidance is best sought in critically analyzing the filmmaker’s choices and identifying the fallacies presented.

Enter Reylo, the age-old enemies-to-lovers archetype where a heroine and anti-hero restore justice and find happiness. TRoS did it, then killed Ben. Why? Because in the American mindset Ben did ‘horrible’ things, and he should recognize his failures and welcome his own death in order to preserve the ‘pure’ deserving soul, Rey. Criminals don’t deserve a redeemed life of happiness, according to the American creators.

I object.

Now, before I get into how wrong this is, here’s a shout out to all of the incredible works out there that have analyzed Reylo and all its glory and value. Here’s a wonderful masterpost by raven-maiden.

The impact of Reylo in analyzing criminal justice

Our current criminal justice system, at least within the American cultural setting where Star Wars has been developed, is a self-defeating, myopic mess.

There is the profit-driven corporatization of its structures that ignore best treatment practices opportunities for convicts within the system. There is the systemic discrimination that plagues fair treatment of both individuals and groups in the criminal justice and judicial systems from beginning to end. There is the unwillingness and/or lack of resources in our criminal justice system to address and improve the mental health concerns and socio-economic disadvantages of its prisoners and, as a result, cultivate reformed behaviors and improved opportunities among people who have committed crimes. There is also the hypocritical tendency of the criminal justice system to bolster the privileged and penalize the disadvantaged.

Regardless of a person’s place in society, our criminal justice system is focused almost entirely on punishment and removal of people within society who have been convicted of crimes. This doesn’t fix anything. It either maintains or worsens the causes that encourage people to commit crimes. Additionally, our criminal justice system does very little to promote actual justice in the forms of restorative justice. Generally, people who have committed crimes are not provided avenues that offer meaningful opportunities for reparation, or counseling to recognize and alleviate the social, economic, or physical issues that caused people to commit crimes in the first place. No one is born bad, or wants to be evil, except for perhaps psychopaths. And it’s clear that Ben/Kylo is not a psychopath, despite of and evidenced by the crimes he has committed.

The Problem with Shunning Reylo or shunning criminals

Those who are Anti-Reylo are generally concerned about abuse, imbalances of power, and toxic behavior and relationships, which they associate with Kylo. I get it. None of those things should ever be tolerated, much less promoted. All people, including Antis, can be assumed to condemn at least most criminal behavior, like Kylo’s. However, the hitch is when people are not willing to tolerate and accept individuals who commit crimes into their communities or relationships ever again—like permitting Kylo to repent, atone, and have a romantic relationship with Rey.

Here’s my issue, many people, for the most part, are sufficiently intolerant to be willing to forgive a person who has committed certain crimes. Clearly, some crimes are beyond redemption. In the spectrum of the severity of crimes, what role does a line in the sand have in story telling? Where does society draw that line? Typically, once crossed the criminal cannot be redeemed. In this way of thinking, reformed behavior, with or without atonement or restitution, would be not be sufficient for welcoming a person who has committed certain crimes back into a community. Like Kylo. Now, it’s not that there shouldn’t be a line. But sometimes we draw that line sooner than we should, and we’re not helping anyone (ourselves included) when we do if forgiveness is never an option.

Just Kylo’s association with the First Order, who as an organization murdered multiple world populations, is past the line for a lot of people. For some, it might be his order to kill the villagers at the beginning of The Force Awakens. Or kidnapping Rey and pushing into her mind during the interrogation scene. Or calling her ‘nothing’ on the Supremacy. Whichever.

I’m not going further into that because for my argument I don’t consider him to have crossed the line, and most Reylos don’t either. Here’s why, and why it matters.

First, Star Wars is mythology. It’s about a god Force and space wizards with laser swords. It teaches values and morals through fantasy and fictional dramatization. It is meant to serve as symbolic guidelines, not hard rules for interpersonal relationships in daily life.

Second, someone argues that Kylo Ren/Ben Solo has irrevocably crossed that line, there is very little to learn or gain from his attributes, his experiences, or his sacrifices. There should always be something to learn. Some *may* be willing to forgive Ben. That forgiveness would have qualifications for the redemption such as certain acts of restorative justice or a sacrifice. But empathy here is limited, if not lacking. And to function as a healthy society, we need lots of empathy.

Third, while Kylo’s representation in the trilogy films is less dimensional that in the extended comics and novelizations, one can not argue that he was abused, neglected, and manipulated into the circumstances of his portrayal. He also was never given an opportunity to truly explain his justification for his actions or the conditions that led to his choices.

Overall, I’m not interested in where that unredeemable line is for people who support his death, or what redemption might entail. It’s likely they would never be willing to support his reintegration into society/the light side or consider him an appropriate love interest for Rey. Thus, what matters about him only matters in how it reflects on the heroes to whom he is an enemy. That would make him a black hole. But he is an anti-hero, and an amazing opportunity for self-reflective growth. We all make mistakes; he is just an extreme example from whose mistakes we can learn from.

Why Rey’s forgiveness is a necessary component of functional criminal justice

I am interested in the value of forgiveness, and the role mythology has in teaching that value. I’m fascinated by Rey’s willingness to forgive Ben Solo, especially since he turns and supports her once he knows she would forgive and welcome him if he renounced the characteristics that make him a villain.

Society is never going to improve if we lock up our criminals and throw away the key. Or execute them.

Now, I’m not expertly qualified to summarize the fields of criminal psychology or criminology in relation to Kylo Ren. However, I do hope to take a stab at why his criminal behavior is relevant in a tale of forgiveness.

Crime is cyclical. There will always be more people committing more crimes, and people committing crimes over and over. Also, most people who commit crimes, if released, will not be persuaded by punishment alone to stop doing whatever they’re doing that is criminal. This is because, for the most part, people with a history of delinquency have already experienced enough suffering in some form to create the impression that criminal acts will help them avoid the suffering they fear. The most commonly imposed societal threats of repercussions to their behavior, such as imprisonment, would be less severe to them than the punishment though suffering they’re attempting to avoid.

Kylo was abandoned by his family and betrayed, almost murdered, by the Jedi. The supposed crime of associating with Snoke/the First Order initially provided him shelter from those who wronged him. Then, a means of recuperating the power he needed to survive. However, he continued to be abused, manipulated, and neglected. Thus, his crimes continued though which he sought escape of fear and suffering through the pursuit of power in order to provide the needs he was lacking.

The motivations that cause one to commit a crime are generally recognized as related to the absence of any of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: physiological, safety, love/belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. Maslow, A.H. (1943). "A theory of human motivation". Psychological Review.

Maslow’s Pyramid

Kylo suffered from an absence of up to four of those five levels of the pyramid.

Now, society will never improve if we believe all criminals are evil and will always be evil unless we scare them into being good. People who commit criminal acts typically act through fear due to lack of a need. Threatening people into behaving well is not going to take their initial fear away; threats don’t provide missing needs. However, it may foster in delinquents a sense of desperate hopelessness, which would only cyclically perpetuate the conditions cultivating their criminality.

For most of the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, no one criticizing Kylo’s esteemed role in the First Order is going to convince him to abandon the people who have welcomed, protected, and admired him in order to return to the ‘murderers, traitors, and thieves [Rey] calls friends.’ Not until Rey offers him a place by her side and an opportunity to make things right.

Trust, counseling, and pathways that allow people to meaningfully reenter society into a safe place through proof of intention by reparation, are the conditions through which criminals most effectively break out of the cycle.

We should be providing people who have committed a criminal act with:

1) the security of a route to acquiring their missing needs; 2) the confidence and recovery to be gained through restorative justice; and 3) a safe place to re-enter society. If we want delinquents to go from inclined to commit a crime, to not, then society must give people with criminal pasts a means to reform. To redemption.

That requires forgiveness.

Rey offered these things to Ben. She wasn’t willing to take him as he was in The Last Jedi as Kylo Ren. But she was willing to help him meet the needs he was missing: safety, love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. And if he turned, which provided him a pathway to meeting those needs when the dark side and First Order would not (despite his hopes), then she would take his hand. Ben’s hand.

Rey’s forgiveness of Kylo would provide a necessary step in the path to him becoming a better person. To reform. To become a hero that the galaxy desperately needed.

In the Rise of Skywalker, perhaps Rey didn’t need him to defeat the Emperor. She might have done it on her own. But she likely wouldn’t have survived if she did. And then the Jedi, the light side, peacekeepers who attempt to maintain balance in the world where the dark doesn’t over take the light, would have disappeared.

Ben’s turn, his choice to change, is what all people who have committed crimes should be permitted. But Rey’s forgiveness, and empathy before that, is a necessary part of Ben’s redemption. Why change criminal behavior, if it is somehow necessary to survive meaningfully, for nothing? Because it’s the right thing to do? That’s not how we work, fundamentally. We’re not angels.

It’s time to say it:

To err is human, to forgive, divine. -Alexander Pope

Rey’s compassion and empathy for Kylo, and her subsequent forgiveness, to me, is the most important thing to come out of Star Wars. Her willingness to respect and admire a person for who they are, despite a dichotomy, despite a criminal history, is a lesson we urgently need today.

Rey learned this herself, which is perhaps the best story telling choice in TRoS. After she stabbed then healed Ben on Ker Bir, she never again chose to engage in attack. She only saved what she loved. She never again used her lightsaber for assault, only deflection. With her potential for mercy, she convinced Kylo to turn. With only self-defense, she defeated the true threat to the Galaxy, the Emperor. The psychopath.

Retaliatory violence would have only made her become part of the cycle of evil. As our criminal justice system does.

Rey and Kylo teach us empathy. They teach us to be better.

Ancestral archetypes embodied through Reylo, and how they’re wasted

If Ben had lived to atone fully, apart from helping Rey free the galaxy of the true source of evil in fascist totalitarianism, Palpatine, he would have lived to cherish and reward Rey for her empathy through their relationship. The ‘dyad in the Force’ that connects Rey and Ben is related to the long-standing concept of dyads representing two parts of one soul, or soulmates that come together to protect humanity.

Dyads have been seen throughout the history of Western philosophy and literature and have played a role in archetypes as discussed by well-recognized voices including Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell, and Plato. These archetypes, dyads included, have been seen as ‘universal, archaic patterns and images that derive from the collective unconsciousness and are the physic counterpart of instinct.’ They serve to inform and instruct, to help us digest our psychologies and nurture our societies. We’ve seen this dyad in many forms, including that described by Carl Jung as the anima and the animus, and reflected around the world in various cultures and spiritualities including Adam and Eve, Yin and Yang, etc. Essentially, a dyad represents balance. Through Ben and Rey’s archetypal dyad, we can learn so much on why to reform our criminal justice system and mindset. And this is not a new thing.

Behold, Plato’s Androgyne.

"The man was originally the child of the Sun, and the man-woman of the Moon, which is made up of sun and earth, and they were all round and moved round and round like their parents. Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they dared to scale the heavens, and they made an attack on the Gods.”

Connecting this to Star Wars, as perhaps (we could only hope the writers considered, or through the pervasiveness of Jungian’s theories of archetypes we can assume was inadvertently manifested) we see representations as both Rey and the light side (or also the Sith due to her parentage being of the darkness/the Moon), and Kylo, as the dark side (but also of the Rebellion/Resistance due to his parentage). Either way, there’s so many ways to relate this. Regardless, Rey’s and Kylo’s ancestral battles are embodied through the balancing of the light and dark sides of the Force. "The Gods took council and Zeus discovered a way to humble their pride and improve their manners. They would continue to exist, but he cut them in two like a sorb-apple which is halved for pickling.”

Assuming the Gods and Zeus are expressed in the Force, here is where Rey and Kylo are separated from their families and tread their separate ways into the light and dark respectively. The same can be said for the Jedi and the Sith. "After the division, the two parts of man (the Androgyne), each desiring his other half, came together and throwing their arms around one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one; they were on the point of dying from hunger and self-neglect because they did not like to do anything apart; and when one of the halves died and the other survived, the survivor sought another mate, man or woman, as we call them--being the sections of entire men or women--and clung to that. “

Now, because it’s clear that Kylo and Rey are obvs meant to be together, I’m going to connect the Androgyne to the Sith and the Jedi. "They were being destroyed when Zeus, in pity of them, invented a new plan. He turned the parts of generation round to the front, for this had not always been their position, and they sowed the seed no longer as hitherto like grasshoppers, in the ground, but in one another; and after the transposition the male generated in the female in order that by mutual embraces of man and woman they might breed and the race might continue; or if man came to man they might be satisfied, and rest, and go their ways to the business of life: so ancient is the desire of one another which is implanted within us, reuniting our original nature, making one of two, and healing the state of man.

Here the Force is Zeus, and the “seed [that is the] male generated in the female” is the birth of Rey. And through ‘the mutual embraces of man and woman’ Rey and Kylo, turned Ben, they ‘breed and the race might continue…reuniting our original nature, making one of two, and healing the state of man.”

Plato. "The Symposium". Benjamin Jowet, trans., Great Books of the Western World

Thus, the value of Reylo.

Through recognition of: 1) the unintended flaws in our humanity need-based motivations for crime; 2) the cyclical nature of crime within our psychology and society; 3) the requirement for forgiveness, support, and acceptance to stop that cycle; 4) and the requirement for man and woman to come together to create new life;

we find that the pairing of our Heroine and our Anti-hero, and the forgiveness and compassion of Rey, serves to restore the balance and heal the wounds in our story.

However, the filmmaking choice to kill Ben, even if in self-sacrifice, is characteristic of society’s unwillingness to tolerate a criminal’s reintegration into society. Despite this, even I started out after the film thinking, “they couldn’t let Ben live. Not for Rey to reach her full potential as a Jedi. He’d drag her down.” Would that necessarily be the case? No. End of discussion.

Thus, Rey’s forgiveness and compassion are devalued and defeated with Ben’s death. There is no hope for those who have been neglected, manipulated, and abused into committing crimes, and our Heroine is left without her soulmate amidst a society that cannot relate to her. With our need for ostracism and retribution, despite the inherent suffering of our repentant villains, we only subtract from the light in society, not add to it. And we’re back where we started.

So. In conclusion, Rey and Ben’s story cannot stop here. Looking at you, DLF. Fix it.

#reylo #Reylo meta #Star Wars meta #bendemption #bring back ben solo #tros ending

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beneaththetangles · 3 years

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A Ryvius Advent

Advent, the time of year in which Christians commemorate Christmas by looking forward to it in anticipation, as well as to Christ’s return, is upon us. We hope that we can help you participate and get into the “Christmas spirit” through our blog as we do our traditional Christmas posts. Consider signing up for our newsletter as we gear up for the season, and following along here on the blog as well with posts like today’s, which kicks off the season is a most appropriate way.

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Infinite Ryvius (Mugen no Ryvius), Goro Taniguchi´s Lord of the Flies meets Lost in Space, is without doubt one of my favorite shows. Yet, I must warn you: It is not an easy one to watch. Its slow burn starts with the focus on the people-pleaser protagonist, Kouji Aiba—a guy who finds it uncool to hang out with anyone who has known him for a long time, his estranged brother Yuki, and their bossy childhood friend Aoi. But soon it expands its scope to perhaps twenty or so very interesting youngsters aboard the Liebe Delta, a starship academy for future space cadets, left without adults after a strange accident (or is it?), and through them, encompasses an entire teen society which grows, fights, suffers, and evolves with every episode, always waiting for rescue.

That is the starting point of a journey that will take its protagonists through hard decisions about survival and violence, war, lies, fears and betrayal, the collapse of social norms, emotional and mental breakdown, and repeated moral failure in what I found to be a very atypical, honest story full of quasi Eva-like angst and misfortune.

What’s worse is that you do not even have a Gendo to blame here, either for how frustratingly Kouji acts nor for anything else. There are adults and dangers outside, but they are not the focus. Instead, it’s on the kids. From the kindhearted teen hero to the bright model student, from the Vulcanian-like brainy to the loud representative, from the weak-willed fat boy to the “bad girl,” from the silent gang leader to the space princess (sort of), they are as flawed as they are relatable, and truly dangerous to each other in their own ways. And the consequences of their sins and errors are not small, not here. What follows has been aptly described as an ascent/descent into hell.

Why watch it, then? Why suffer? For one, its characters are (in my view) fascinating, and their occasional ugliness, and that of the situation, is how we gradually come to see something genuine and hopeful about them. They may start as archetypes, but they suffer, evolve, interact, struggle, and surprise me, for better and for worse. No matter how minor their roles, they all have something to say, and quite frequently they are things I hadn’t heard before from characters like these. The story does not whitewash their flaws, but neither does it give up on them when they fail (and boy, do they fail). The comparison with The Lord of the Flies may be the first thing that comes to mind, but if you go along, you will receive, one after another, signs that things may go differently here. It is not only the primal they confront, but also the supernatural; not only the evil in them, but the good. And I have come to understand enough about myself to know that I´m pretty much like Hikki Hachiman: I thirst to know the human heart, of others and mine, and I often find hope in it.

More than that, Mugen no Ryvius is a show firmly interested in what is good and evil, right and wrong, just and unjust, much like Bokurano or Serial Experiments Lain. It takes its premise seriously, and it makes every effort to show us that everyone is connected. This principle is personified in the character of the Girl in Pink, the soul of the starship, an observer who wanders around learning about its inhabitants, sometimes talking with them, sometimes helping them, sometimes unveiling what is beneath the surface, she herself connected to the deeper mysteries of the ship. And, as I have loved reading about the evolution of fictional societies and regimes since I first read Plato´s terrific (in both senses of the word) Republic in Philosophy class, the self-contained nature of the community which is described, the elegant way in which everything is presented and the 26 episodes that give us plenty of time to know everything about everyone make this a very enjoyable story, even if sometimes you have to just endure it.

There is even more. Ryvius is not only a psychological thriller or a social experiment. It is a tale of discernment and heroism, but not only that either. Much as in Taniguchi´s Planetes, its themes and symbology go all the way to the philosophical and the spiritual, in this case with the salvation of all humanity literally at stake. The characters are largely unaware of this larger plot—they are busy enough as it is—except for some weird encounters they experience here and there, but we get to see it through the Girl in Pink. The story has something to say about who we are to each other, and about sacrifice, sin and delusion, and also about the meaning of hope and love in this fallen world. Thus, it connects with the themes of Advent, the time when we remember the long wait for Christ during the long ages of Israel, the longing of the human heart for Him in the reign of sin, the promises of the prophets and the difficult and specific, strange, miraculous yet discreet circumstances in which the fulfillment of that hope was prepared when the time came.

But, God being the Lord of the Living, this period is not only one of remembrance. It is also the time when we try to better dispose our hearts so that His coming here and now can touch us more deeply. It’s becoming a challenging, tiring Advent for me, both professionally and personally, so these days I am fasting a bit, trying to bring to mind the hope of Christmas and of the future and meditating on the readings of Isaiah and John the Baptist, Joseph, and Mary. Because Advent is also the time when we look to the future from the hardships of this world and renew our hope that He will come back, that rescue is coming. That there is a second, hidden story in my life too, and it encompasses and explains the one I see. It is something of a funny coincidence that the hardest part of the Ryvius story comes also at December, a December in space.

I think that is as far as I can go speaking only in general, so spoilers ahead. Ryvius is full of twists and turns, so you have been warned.

Episode 23 is probably the show at is bleakest. Just an episode or two before, the violence, the egoism, the anarchy, the malevolence, the ill will, the disorder and the laziness have reached its peak, and a friend has been scarred. The sins of the little society—unbeknownst to them, a literally chosen people, because the Ryvius is the only hope for humanity to escape the Second Solar Flare, and no crew has ever been able to make it react—are just too many, and they are punished. It is the logical consequence, and even I was hoping for it. Our heroes experience a mutual emotional breakdown, unable to comfort each other. And hurt and bitter, the courageous and kind Ikumi turns into a tyrant by threats and sheer force, threatening to destroy entire sections of the starship if he is not immediately given unconditional obedience. Like the Leviathan of Hobbes, he demands absolute power to prevent the kids to becoming wolves for each other. With Yuki and the rest of the mecha aces on his side, those aboard are forced to comply.

His first decision is to reinstate the gang of Airs Blue, that other interesting tyrant, back from prison as the police force, a role than they clearly enjoy. Shortly after, order is restored, but in such a way the ship starts to feel like an occupied country. Violence is not as overt as it was, but it is there. And maybe all that would be at least an improvement on the previous anarchy, were not that his main advisor is the ultimate schemer of the Zwei group, Heiger, who has been given free hands to engage in his social engineering projects and protect this Pax Romana until the number of violent incidents is zero.

Shortly after, people are sorted by ability and separated (well, either that, or if Heiger thinks you a subversive element, sent straight to Class F, which includes pretty much every important character who is not part of the regime). Juli Bahana, the voice of empathy and reason, is expelled from the bridge for objecting (more specifically, for objecting without providing a feasible alternative), and sent to Class F. So is her ever-jealous friend Ran, who has undermined her in every way she could. His crime is violently protesting that the little kid aboard, Pat, has been sent to Class F too (well, says Heiger, naturally, he is not useful by any objective standard). Fina S. Shinozaki, the beautiful pagan priestess/cult leader who preaches the false Gospel of making yourself a new you of your own design, is leading the course of the ship, which now points toward her planet.

When all the new residents of Class F are in their area, a new surprise comes. Unbeknownst to Ikumi, Heiger, who is losing it a bit, blocks the area and switches the lights off. They are left without food or a way out. In his reasoning, these people are not useful, the lowest of the low, and everything that is given to them is a waste. Many of them, conscious of their crimes or their lack of ability, even recognize it is only natural that they would end up at Class F. So there they are, our most pathetic characters, in the darkness. Jealous Ran, indecisive Juli, feeble and treacherous Charlie (sorry, I mean Good Turtleland the Third), femme fatale Criff, bratty Nicks, people-pleaser Kouji, messy and bossy Aoi, loud Lucson, spoiled Pat, the lazy couple who stole points, even the creepy psycho who “protects” Charlotte—all there.

When someone lights a lantern, and it turns out that Lucson was stealing food, so he decides to share it, not without boasting about his “keen foresight.” The last, the not useful, the dispossessed, the guilty thus share the little they have, and sit around the light. Somehow, a curious joy starts to permeate them, and someone asks out of the blue, “It is almost Christmas, isn’t it?”

What it is is December 13rd, the birthday of the youngest member of the crew, Pat Campbell. His father and mother figure are beside him. Lucson may be an incompetent, a liar, and a vain leader, but he has taken good care of Pat, to the point of showing that he is willing to take a beating in his place, and has tried to set example for him in his own clumsy way. Juli may be indecisive and her renouncing as captain of the ship may have played a part in the present state of things, but she has cared for the kid from the first moment. The Girl of Pink is attracted towards that light they share, not towards the bridge, and it´s no wonder. The bleakness of Ryvius disappears for a couple of minutes, and there is a warm light instead. This is the moment in which she speaks to Kouji and stops being an observer, providing hope, a way out. Literally, there is a path.

The darkness will strike twice again in this very episode and the hardest part of this journey of purification is still ahead, but we have seen a glimpse of where it leads. As viewers, we can have hope. Kouji still has to carry his own Cross, his own Gethsemane, and beyond. Aoi will share it all with him. We will still suffer before we reach the end. But for now, there is light. There is a sign of something beyond the madness the Ryvius has fallen into, something that reaches these broken sinners suffering the consequences of their own errors and makes them one, even so.

While darkness and poverty have united Class F, the powerful, the strong and the wise in the terms of the ship are not so lucky. Ikumi cannot participate in the feast. After all, he is locked in his palace—the officials bedroom—with his own thoughts, increasing his own power, worried, navigating his inner traumas, working to stop even the littlest of crimes aboard while the tyrannical system he has created causes others he does not detect. He wants his Pax Romana no matter the means, and even if he is not mistaken about what is right, he is wrong about placing all hope in his own hands, and about the darkness of his own heart. Like Herod (though younger, more desperate and driven by fear and trauma), he may resort even to murder. Neither can Kozue, who has made the conscious decision to play into Ikumi´s trauma to have someone who will provide her affection, and literally shut the door to everything and everyone else.

Neither can Yuki, our punk Pharisee, who never loses an opportunity to point how weak-willed, despicable, low and inauthentic his elder brother is, usually with a punch or two to show him. Even if he is Kouji´s younger brother, he is no doubt like the older brother of the parable, only substituting obedience to the father to doing what he pleases without external influence. He also wants acknowledgement for his achievements. Nor Heiger, who is busy with the census of his new empire, sending every member of the Ryvius community to the place where he belongs to, in his opinion, and worshiping efficiency like he always wanted to. Heiger´s terrified reaction to the unknown, in the form of the Lovecraftian/Ghiblian space beasts, shows us how self-enclosed in the works of his own hands he is at this point of the story: His own cleverness has blinded him to this hope.

But if Ikumi is traumatized, Heiger is a materialist, and Yuki is just doing what he feels vaguely good about, someone is searching for a spiritual meaning in the circumstances. And the meaning she finds is evil. That is Fina S, Shinozaki, the young cult leader/priestess of Mother Arne, a pagan deity who considers letting your past behind and rebuilding yourself from zero as the first moral imperative, adapts to every situation quickly and cleverly, considers Ikumi to be a war god, and believes the Universe will help you if you desire things strongly enough. Behind the bizarre elements of this space cult (you know, those pesky Uranians), there is a very familiar philosophy: Be the center of everything, project a perfect illusion, become powerful no matter the situation, delete from your life those people and parts of yourself you don´t like, always be determined, and get what you want.

Villainous as Fina is, I cannot but feel compassion for her, as she is farther away from hope than the rest, and suffers without it. When hurt, she tries to kill the same person whose love she longs for: she wants to prevent him from applying her own philosophy to her and letting her in his past. When heartbroken, she tries to force her smile like a mask. When her acts get her scarred, she wonders if she is not as virtuous as she should be. The philosophy of becoming your own creator not only destroy you, but also tells you that it´s your fault, for not wanting to be free and happy strongly enough. So I truly pity her, and this broken age of ours, too. In a silent alliance with the Girl in Pink, Kouji will risk everything to confront all four, like John the Baptist, and call them to repent.

So at this time of the year, we should also prepare for what is to come—the fights as well as the rescue, the present as well as the future. The joy of the feast and the time of waiting. In the midst of our daily struggles and sufferings, of the problems of the world, we may take a step back to reflect and pray, try to hear the call, think about the meaning of what is happening, share the little we have, remove the obstacles, acknowledge who we are, repent. Take perspective on the things of the world. Give others the comfort and hope they need. Be brave. And help those who are not useful for us, even those who have hurt us, for we are connected, aboard the same ship. And those far from Class F, locked anywhere, need Christmas too, and dearly: Their hearts thirst just like ours.

And miraculously, there is a path.

=====

Mugen no Ryvius can be acquired at Amazon.

#Anime #Christianity #Mugen no Ryvius #Infinite Ryvius #Christmas #Advent #Sin #Hope #Articles #Author: Gaheret

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eternalgirlscout · 4 years

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a while back @lesbians4sokka (i think? sorry for @ing you if i’m thinking of a different blog) asked me to share my thoughts about The Rise of Kyoshi, and seeing as i just finished the book last night (because i am a monster who gets most of the way through a book and thinks “if i keep reading it’ll be over i can’t have that”) i’m finally doing it now!

this got long as hell OOPS

spoilers under the cut

I want to talk about vengeance and justice in this novel.

back when I was only maybe a third of the way through it, i said on twitter that i was excited to see an avatar with an “opposite moral trajectory” to aang; in AtLA, aang has to learn to value justice over conflict avoidance, whereas RoK’s kyoshi has to prioritize justice over revenge. they come to similar conclusions from wildly different starting points. now that i’ve finished the book, i can’t decide how much i stand by that assessment. it feels reductive--which is a testament to the strength of F.C. Yee’s storytelling. while yes, aang and kyoshi both learn a great deal about justice, they act justly in very different ways.

aang, for reasons i like and appreciate from storytelling, ethical, and characterization perspectives (if you haven’t read my The Lion Turtle Is Good, Actually manifesto, you are legally obligated to do so now) has a strict rule about how he enacts justice that aligns with his beliefs and duties to the legacy of the air nomads. rather than killing people who abuse power to oppress others, he takes away the mechanism by which they accomplish violence--namely, their bending. in LoK we see that he continues to use this ability as an alternative to taking a life for at least most of his career as the avatar when he takes yakone’s bending.

kyoshi, on the other hand, has a very different philosophical development and ultimate approach to justice. her last conversation with lao ge summarizes the conflict between the mode of justice that works for aang (though obviously AtLA takes place chronologically after RoK, the novel is well aware that the reader has almost certainly seen the series first and takes ideas and details from it to flesh out the world, which i think is another strength of Yee’s) and the mode of justice she creates for herself.

“I feel... inconsistent. Unfair. Like I should have either killed them both or let them both live.”

...

“If you had a strict rule, maybe, to always show mercy or always punish, you could use it as a shield to protect your spirit. But that would be distancing yourself from your duty. Determining the fates of others on a case-by-case basis, considering the infinite combinations of circumstance, will wear on you like rain on the mountain... You will never be perfectly fair, and you will never be truly correct,” Lao Ge said. “This is your burden.” (405)

the stark difference between aang’s philosophical background and kyoshi’s leads them to very different outcomes with regard to their choices as the avatar. yes, aang makes decisions on a case-by-case basis as well, but he is not interested in retribution as much as restoration and has a line he will not cross. i could argue that kyoshi sees the two (retribution, restoration) as inextricable in the pursuit of justice.

but what about vengeance?

kyoshi’s hatred of her parents wears away over the course of the novel, but her need to enact revenge on jianzhu only becomes more urgent. she is not universally vengeful, but she does not let go of revenge as a goal until she has it... sort of.

speaking of which, i fucking screamed when yun showed up again. i had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of him, but the timing of his appearance and the change in him hit me like a lightning bolt. sorry, i have to gush for a second about how interested i am in what’s up with him. i am a sucker for a literal dead boy walking, for someone who has been turned into something Other by forces outside their control, and no matter what kyoshi ends up having to do to deal with him, i know i’m going to go feral for it. this is a Yun Stan Account until further notice.

anyway. it’s fascinating that kyoshi doesn’t actually get her revenge per se. yun does. he avenges himself, and it (likely) only causes more problems for kyoshi. and i think the distinction between vengeance and justice is quite wonderfully articulated afterwards:

How could such a container [as Jianzhu’s body] have held the volume of her anguish, her wrath? If any feeling at all pressed through the numbness... it was the ire of a hoodwinked child who’d been promised the end of her bedtime story only to see the candle-lights snuffed and the door slam shut. She was a girl alone in the dark. (430)

she gets the outcome she wanted: jianzhu dead. but her path to him “simply ended.” she has pragmatic advantages now that he’s out of the way--freedom, for one thing, and rangi’s safety, but those weren’t the things that drove her to want her revenge. there is a hollowness to it, a lack of catharsis. revenge is about the self, not the other.

and selfhood is something else kyoshi gives up.

one of the most striking lines in this novel appears when she walks into the tea house to meet jianzhu. at this point, kyoshi has assembled a motley outfit of expensive armor, theater costume pieces, battle accessories, outlaw facepaint, and bending aids for the heretical air nomad. she looks fucking weird. she’s like a video game PC wearing all the highest-stat armor she could loot from random dungeons and none of it matches. literally an assemblage of the places she’s been and the people who have helped her.

This was who she was now. This was her skin. This was her face. (418)

as the avatar, kyoshi has to be a symbol more than a person, even though she is fundamentally a human being as fallible as anyone else. the people who hear of her defeat of xu think she’s a spirit or a dragon in human disguise--regardless of what kyoshi wants and who she is, the world expects her to be something More. so, she gets dressed up and gives them what they need to see.

watching that transformation over the course of one novel is incredible. the path from the girl she is at the start of the novel to the woman we see advise aang that only justice will bring peace is far from over, but the trajectory is more than established. i’m really excited to see what Yee brings to another novel. kyoshi is just getting started.

some other miscellaneous thoughts:

i loved the choice to have a YA writer write this novel. not just for the obvious reason that Avatar is a franchise primarily for kids and teens, but because a lot of the common stylistic elements in YA fiction serve this story incredibly well. (by no means are any of these universal, of course; YA is a broad category of literature with huge stylistic and generic diversity, but in general it has these strengths.) the third person limited pov that switches between various characters gives a vital breadth to the story. there are a lot of moving pieces, and being able to see most of them in real time cuts back on exposition and heightens tension when you can watch their collision course. the focus on the given pov character’s interiority is put to incredible use, especially on the occasions when kyoshi enters the avatar state--and when it’s revealed that jianzhu hides things from even the reader, it becomes all the more staggering what a cunning bastard he is (jianzhu hate blog right here). kyoshi’s blushy crush on yun and even blushier crush on rangi are so good and are woven naturally into the story (bi fuckin rights babey!). that’s a teen with a big heart right there. also, fun swerve to the love triangle trope to get one of the love interests eaten by a spirit a few chapters in! his mind...

the part where kyoshi runs through a stone wall and leaves a kyoshi-shaped hole had me rolling, not just because i was impressed by how well that visual gag worked in prose but also because i can’t believe neither (to my memory) AtLA nor LoK pulled that.

HIDDEN PASSAGE... HIDDEN PASSAGE... THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS...

again i say: bi fucking RIGHTS

and i guess that’s all. stay tuned for the masterpost of Rise of Kyoshi memes i made as i read the book because i have a whole folder of them

#rise of kyoshi #Avatar!verse #meta #more or less. mostly just rambling #do not expect formal coherency from this i just got excited #liked the ending a lot! liked the characters! liked it as a piece of avatar lore!

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

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Fic: Sympathy for the Devil (John Wick) 4/4

Summary: Your best friend is getting married and you’re very excited until you find out that your ex is coming to the wedding. After a night of too much drinking and without a date for the big day, you summon a demon to make a deal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Author’s notes: This is the last part! I loved the idea when I came to me and fell in love even more while writing it. Wanna thank everyone who stuck around for this ride! I hope you people enjoyed as much as I did and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. Maybe I’ll return to this in the near future.

Wordcount: 4999

Warnings: bad language; mentions of blood and other bodily fluids

You stared at the empty spot that John had previously occupied, too confused to move, before letting out a deep sigh and rubbing your face. Of course, you screwed this up. You always screw it up. It almost felt like a curse. Whenever you got close and started to fall for someone, they ran away from you, more often than not without a goodbye or explanation.

With another sigh, you got into John’s car, on the driver’s seat this time, relieved to see that he had left the keys in the ignition. You adjusted the seat and mirrors grimacing at the way the mess of fluids running down your leg made you stick uncomfortably to the seat. It would probably stain the leather, but you couldn’t give a single fuck. He left you stranded in the middle of nowhere. Getting a cum stain on his seat was a very small punishment for it.

As you drove back home, angry tears prickled on the corner of your eyes and you wiped them away, smearing your mascara. You had been such a fool for letting yourself be swept by a man who was a literal demon, whose only interest was to take you straight to hell and you gave in to him. Might as well had handened your soul to him on a silver platter. Shouldn’t you have a better sense of self-preservation?

You had been on this road before. You had fallen for the wrong man once. Gave him your whole heart and he smashed into pieces, left you broken and ruined, unable to really trust again. Or so you thought. Because here you were, giving yourself to the wrong person again getting involved in something that would only lead to pain.

You parked the car at the driveway of your parents’ house and headed inside, straight to your bedroom. You all but tore the dress off yourself and stepped into the burning hot shower to wash away every trace of your night with John, scrubbing away the smell of his cologne from your skin.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t wash away the bruises and love bites he left on your neck, hips, and thighs and as you stared at yourself in the mirror of your room you felt an emptiness in your chest. You already missed him.

You slept poorly, tossing and turning, your dreams haunted by John’s face and his smell and his touch and you longed for him so much you woke up in the early hours of the morning gasping his name, the emptiness almost crushing you.

You needed to see him and talk to him and feel him… You needed him. But you didn’t know where he went when he disappeared in thin air like that. You didn’t know anything about him. Nothing except he was a demon and could hear your thoughts and feel what you felt, but you didn’t know how close he needed to be for that.

You felt silly sitting on your bed, eyes squeezed shut in concentration as you shouted his name in your head.

‘JOHN! Can you hear me? JOHN!’

There was a shift in the air, a lingering smell of sulfur and when you opened your eyes, John was standing there, in sweatpants and a white shirt, hair messy and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he slept as badly as you did.

“You don’t have to shout,” he said with a yawn. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Well how am I supposed to know how good reception is in hell?” you said, standing up to face him, arms crossed over your chest.

“Is there where you think I go?” He asked with a small amused snort and you shrugged, your cheeks heating up. “I’m staying at a hotel, darling. Getting in and out of hell isn’t exactly an easy trip.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. “So, when I summoned you…”

“I was already in town that’s why I answered,” he explained, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and reaching for you. After a moment of hesitation, you let him pull you closer until you were standing between his legs and he rested his cheek against your belly.

“You live on Earth then?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair. The emptiness was finally gone now that you were touching him. He nodded, his hands running up your thighs as he nuzzled your stomach. “And you have a regular job and everything?”

“Even demons have bills to pay,” he replied with a chuckle, looking up at you and for the first time, you noticed his eyes weren’t black, but a warm shade of brown. “I restore antique books.”

“So that was why you were at Callum’s,” you said, bending down to kiss him, sighing happily against his lips. You should be furious. He abandoned you yesterday but at the sight of him, all the anger bleed out from you.

“I’m sorry, darling” John whispered against your mouth. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I was just…”

“Confused? Overwhelmed?” you offered, and John nodded, pulling you to sit on his lap. “Why?”

“I’m a demon, I’m not supposed to feel,” he said, tracing your face. “But you, my darling, are making me feel everything.”

“Love?” you asked, hesitantly and John nodded. “Me too.”

“I know,” he smiled, cradling your face and you scrunched up your nose as he kissed it. John chuckled.

“It’s not fair, you know? You know everything about me, and I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know if your real name is John.”

“It isn’t.”

“What is it then?”

“I can’t tell you,” John replied with a sigh, caressing your cheek.

“Can’t or won’t?” you challenged.

“Can’t. Names have power in my world. Giving someone your name is giving them control over you.”

“Is that why you call me darling all the time?” you asked, earning a soft smile.

“Part of it, yes,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “But mostly is because I like you.”

“So, what can you tell me? About yourself?”

John took a deep breath before he started to tell you about his human life. He told you about how he killed so many people that it wasn’t really a surprise his soul went straight to hell when he died at age 49. He told you about the torture he endured before becoming a demon himself and being allowed to go back to his old home, New York. He told you about his job of collecting and corrupting souls, but that you already knew. John never lied to you about it.

“So, is there a point system or something?” you asked as a joke. “How many points did I get by having my brains fucked out by a demon?”

John stood up so suddenly you nearly fell out of his lap. It was only your quick reflexes that made you catch your footing as he moved away from you.

“Don’t kid about that,” he said, his voice turning hard. “It’s not funny.”

“John…” you started, reaching for him but he pulled away from you, eyes haunted.

“No. We need to end this deal before…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Before what?” you asked, taking a step towards him again. “Before my soul is damned for all eternity? John, I told you, I don’t…”

“I care!” he shouted cutting you off. “I don’t want you to go through what I did. I can’t break the deal, but I can stop tainting you. Maybe that will be enough…” He shook his head again and his eyes were so full of pain it broke your heart. “I’ll be back tonight to take you to the wedding, our deal will be done, and you will never see me again.”

Before you could say a word of protest, he was gone again, and you wanted to scream. One of these days, you were gonna learn a way to keep him from leaving you like that.

---

As John fixed his tie for the night, he felt a lump on his throat. This was the last time he was going to see her, and it was breaking his heart but he knew it was for the best. If he stopped now he would be able to save her, keep her from having the same destiny he had. Unlike John, she didn’t deserve eternal damnation. Not if what Marcus told him was true. She was the last person in the world that deserve it.

Last night, when John poured his heart out to his friend, it only took him saying her name for Marcus to understand what was happening. The purity John felt on her was the remains of the angelic powers that allowed her birth. She was a miracle. A literal fucking miracle, which meant at the same rate that John tainted her soul, she redeemed his. That was why he was feeling emotions again and falling in love. He was turning back to human as he damned her soul to hell.

If it was anyone else John would jump at the chance of being human again, free of hell’s influence and with the opportunity of doing things differently, lead a normal life. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was her and he wouldn’t risk her soul. Who would have thought John one day would put someone else above himself? Definitely not him.

With one last look at the mirror, John wondered what happened to him. How could he have changed so much in just under two days? Here he was, wearing his familiar black suit, his hair gelled back and once upon a time the sight of him in this outfit would strike fear in the hearts of humans and demons alike. Tonight, all he could see when he looked at himself was a pale shadow of the imposing figure he used to be.

With a sigh, he searched for his car keys and remembered he left with her. Once again she was waiting for him at the door and stepped out as soon as he knocked. She threw the keys his way and John opened the passenger door for her. She got in without a word, but he could feel the tentative glances she kept sending him and the way her pretty lips would part as if she was about to say something to him but thought better of it, remaining silent.

The tense silence between them endured through the entire trip to the church and John was almost thankful for the fact that she was the maid of honor and had to sit in the front roll with the rest of the wedding entourage while he hung in the back.

The ceremony was shorter than he expected and soon enough they were on their way to the party, being greeted by the newly wedded couple. As John shook hands with the groom, he caught the way the bride whispered something to her, apparently catching the tension between them. Once again she lied, this time much more smoothly. He barely felt the taste of her sin. It made him worry for her soul. Was he too late?

Guilt gnawed his guts with an intensity he never felt before, not even when he was human, and John wished he had the power to speed time and end this party already. He wanted to be done with this deal before he ruined her completely. John headed for the bar, ordering himself a bourbon which he swallowed in one go, enjoying the burn on his tongue and throat. He pushed a hundred dollars bill to the bartender.

“I don’t wanna see this glass empty for the rest of the night,” he said and the man nodded, immediately refilling the glass while he pocketed the money.

John kept watching her from afar, they way she was talking and laughing with her friends, actually enjoying herself. Sometimes she would glance his way. Worry and pain would flash in her eyes and that was enough to break his heart all over again, make him move away, out of her sight.

He moved to one of the quieter corners of the party. Hoping some distance could dull some of the pain he felt for hurting her, even if it was the only way to protect her. John nursed his drink, counting the minutes for the party to be over while he mulled over the favor he had to ask her to end this deal once in for all.

He was so distracted with brooding, his senses a little hindered by the alcohol that it took John a while to pick up her discomfort. As soon as he did, he was on his feet, searching for her and wasn’t even surprised to find her once against cornered by Ryan.

“I really need to talk to you,” Ryan said, and she sighed.

“Ryan, this isn’t a good time,” she replied, trying to sidestep him but he grabbed her arm. The sight of him touching her had John seething and as he was about to intervene, he heard her voice in his head.

‘Stay out of it.’ He froze in place. John didn’t even know she had noticed his approach.

“Fine! Talk.” She pulled her arm from Ryan’s grip, crossing them over her chest and glaring daggers at him.

Ryan stayed quiet as if he was figuring out what he wanted to say. John took a peek at his confused thoughts, realizing what the other man was about to do only seconds before the words were out of Ryan’s mouth.

“I still love you.” Her eyes went wide in shock at his words. “I never wanted to leave you but your father… he made me. I regretted the second I stepped in that bus.”

“My dad made you leave?” she asked, and John could feel her confusion. “How?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ryan shook his head, trying to wave the question away and John couldn’t help but snort, drawing their attention to his presence.

“That’s not true, is it, Ryan?” John said stepping closer until he was standing next to her. “It does matter.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ryan hissed, glaring at John.

“Your father offered him a check,” John declared, shifting his attention to her before Ryan could say anything else. “And he took it.”

He watched as she swallowed hard, her eyes glistening as she glanced back at Ryan. Her hurt was almost crushing, and John had to grab onto the wall to not succumb to it.

“Is this true?” she asked, and Ryan gaped wordlessly. “It is, isn’t it? John doesn’t lie.”

“I…” he started his expression angsty. “I regret taking that money every single day. I swear. If I could turn back time…” She shook her head and snorted, tears streaking down her face.

“You know, I never thought you could hurt me anymore than you had done that night,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong.”

Turning on her heels, she walked away. Ryan made a motion to follow but John stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“I think you’ve done enough,” John said with a dangerous glare. “You should go back to your date and leave her alone.”

“Or what?” Ryan challenged emboldened by whiskey and John almost felt tempted in letting him take the first blow just so he would have an excuse to break this man.

“Or you’ll regret it,” John replied, his eyes turning fully black.

The terror in Ryan’s face as he stumbled back and away was quite satisfying and John chuckled as the man ran away. His amusement faded at the overwhelming feeling of pain making him choke up and his eyes burn. John didn’t even know he could still cry. He followed the path she had taken, finding her sitting outside, face in her hands.

“I’m a good person,” she declared startling John as she turned to look at him. “I am, right? I mean I’m no saint, but I follow the law and protect citizens. I recycle and I help old ladies cross the street… I’m a good person.”

“Darling…” he sighed, taking her hand in his. “You’re way more than just good. You have one of the purest souls I have ever encountered.”

“So why does it feel like I’m being punished all the time?” she asked with a sniffle. “I thought I was over Ryan and here he is, breaking my heart all over again and you… You can’t even bear look at me.”

“You know how I feel about you,” John said with a shaky breath and she snorted.

“Do I?” she stood up, hugging herself. “You never told me.”

John stood as well, bringing her into his embrace and catching her lips for a kiss.

“I love you, my darling,” he whispered against her mouth, her hot tears wetting his cheeks. John wasn’t sure if she was crying because she was still hurt and raw or because the wedding was almost over and every second that passed brought them closer to completing their bargain.

John cradled her face in his hands, looking into her eyes, he needed to ask his favor now. There was only one thing he wanted but it was the only thing he couldn’t have. Not if he wanted to protect her.

“Please forgive me,” he asked instead, his voice breaking slightly.

“There’s nothing to forgive, John,” she said with a confused frown.

“Not yet,” John sighed, tracing her face, committing it to memory.

“That’s the favor, isn’t it?” she asked, eyes welling up again and John nodded. “I forgive you, John.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sigh. There was just one thing left to do now.

John brushed away the rest of her tears from her cheeks before he caught her lips in a kiss. It was slow and full of longing, but when John finally pulled away from her, he could no longer hear or feel her. The deal was finished.

“Goodbye, darling,” he whispered against her lips before fading into the night, leaving her for the last time.

---

You stood in the cemetery in front of the tombstone, jewelry box in hand as you contemplated if you were really going through with this. It had been six months since Claire’s wedding. Six months since your entire life had been turned upside down. Not only you had run into the man you thought had been the love of your life after years without seeing him, but he also confessed that he still loved you and why he had left.

When you got back to your parents' house that night the fight had been epic. How dare your father mess with your life like that? Pay your boyfriend to abandon you, break your heart.

“I don’t regret it,” he said, his tone never wavering. “A broken heart is easier to mend than a ruined life. You’re my only daughter. I wasn’t gonna let that scumbag end your future. Hate me all you want but if he really loved you, he wouldn’t have taken a cent. No matter how much I offered.”

You had no answer to that, so you just stumped your way back to your room, slamming the door shut like a teenager throwing a temper tantrum. Deep down you knew he was right. If Ryan had stayed, would you have gone to college? Police academy? Would you have met John?

Your heart arched as your thoughts traveled back to the demon. You understood why he did what he did. He was trying to protect you, save you from hell, even if his job was to do the exact opposite. However, you hated that he took the choice away from you. You would have gladly damned your soul to hell if you got to keep him, but that wasn’t an option. Not anymore apparently.

You went back to your life, trying to put the entire thing behind you. You eventually forgave your dad and looked up Ryan's girlfriend, telling her everything that had happened at the wedding. Was it vindictive and petty of you? Yes. Did you regret it? Absolutely not. Especially when she showed you the video of her burning every single piece of clothes Ryan owned when she dumped him. It was entertaining as hell and you made an amazing new friend. All in all, your father was right, and you dodged a bullet getting rid of Ryan. Warning Maggie was just your way of paying it forward.

As the weeks went by, you threw yourself into work, expecting the gaping hole in your heart to diminish, but it didn’t. You missed John and nothing could make that better. Maybe that was what made you a little more daring, a little more reckless in your job.

You started to always be the first through the door of any dangerous situation, the first to draw your weapon and confront perps. You kept toeing the line and lost count of how many times you got yelled by your Captain or how many close calls you got. It was in one of these calls that you found yourself face to face with a man called Charon.

You were stepping out of the 99th precinct after spending a week chasing this guy who killed his wife. You managed to nail him, but it was a close call and you were exhausted and ready to sleep for a whole day. Instead, you were confronted with Charon waiting outside a black sedan as he called your name and opened the passenger door for you.

“My employee would like to have a word with you about a mutual acquaintance,” Charon said after introducing himself.

“What mutual acquaintance?” You asked with an arched eyebrow.

“You might know him as John Wick.”

You were inside the car as fast as your legs could carry you and Charon drove to a fancy hotel called the Continental, leading the way to the rooftop overlooking the New York skyline where a man with greying hair and in an elegant cravat sipped tea.

“So you’re the reason my most efficient demon has been in suffering for weeks.” His voice was deep and gravelly; his eyes dark and piercing as he turned your way, giving you a quick once-over. “Are you aware of what you’ve done to Jonathan?”

“We made a deal, but that’s…

“Over?” Winston cut you off with a snort. “The deal might be, but the repercussions… you started him in the path of redemption. Now every soul he takes causes him great pain. He’s useless to High Table like that. As a soul collector at least.”

His words sparked hope in your chest. if John was useless to hell, maybe…

“Maybe you get to keep him?” Winston voiced your thoughts, his lips drawing into a smirk. “You do love him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You didn’t flinch or hesitate at the word. You weren’t afraid of it anymore.

Winston just nodded, glancing to the side when Charon appeared, handing him a small black book and a rolled-up parchment, yellowed and frail.

“How about we strike a deal, my dear?” Winston started, moving closer to you. “We recently had a breach in our gates and a few, shall we say, strays got loose. Hell isn’t chaos, you know? We have a strict balance to keep.”

“Ok and?” you asked, arching your eyebrow at him. You think you knew where this was going, but you wanted to make sure.

“We could use some help in herding these strays back to where they belong,” Winston continued. “Help from someone with special abilities. With enough power to find and bind them.”

“You think I have that?” you asked, and Winston snorted.

“If you could summon John, you can definitely find these lost souls and lower demons,” he said with a flick of his hand. “Just by looking at you I can see the raw potential. You just need a proper master to teach you.”

“Say I accept this, what do I get?” you asked, watching as Winston smirked.

“Exactly what you want,” he said showing her the parchment. “John’s contract.”

“He’ll be free?” you asked, your heart hammering in your chest.

“As free as he can be as a demon.”

“I accept,” you declared, stepping up to Winston but he stopped you by raising his hand.

“A simple handshake will surface with me, dear,” he said, offering his hand. When your palm touched his, a sharp burning pain in your wrist made you hiss. There was now a black mark etched on your skin. “Just insurance. If you do not follow my terms, John’s soul remains with me and I’ll have yours.”

“I should’ve read the fine print, huh?” you said with a derisive snort and Winston smirked, handing you the book and a business card.

“Learn what you need first, then you get what you want.”

With one last nod, you walked away from Winston and started your deep dive into the supernatural world. learning everything you could find on heaven and hell; demons and angels; lost souls and anything else you could find under the guidance of a witch doctor by the name of Bowery King.

Now here you stood, six months later with brand-new skills and exactly what you needed to get what you wanted. You just hoped you got the right grave otherwise this was going to be awkward.

With a deep breath, you set the box on the ground. Aash and bone and silver already inside. Only one thing missing. You took out the small vial of blood you had collected earlier that day. One of the things the King taught you was that just because magic was an ancient force didn’t mean it needed to be archaic. Blood drawn with a syringe worked just as well as drawn from a cut but hurt way less and didn’t leave you vulnerable to infection.

You dripped the blood in the box and whispered the same words you had said that night at the crossroad. This time you didn’t stumble over your Latin and you finished with a name:

“Jardani Jovanovic.” For a while, nothing happened and then a shudder ran through you when you heard his voice.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” his tone was harsh and angry, and you had to smile. Damn, you had missed him.

“Well hello to you too, John,” you said turning to face him. “Or do you prefer Jardani?” He almost stumbled back in shock.

“Where did you hear that name?” he asked, voice shaking, and you stepped closer to him.

“Well, it wasn’t easy to find out. All I had to start was that you were 49 and died in New York. Do you know how much I had to dig to find out your human identity? I’m on a first-name basis with every single employee at the Public Library. But I found you, John.”

“Good for you,” he growled. “You still shouldn’t have done this, summoned me or any other demon for that matter. You have no idea what you’re doing.” He turned around to leave but froze at your next words.

“I met Winston.”

“What?” John looked back at you with wide eyes.

“Winston. That’s your boss, right?” you said, stepping towards him again and before you could even think about stopping him, John grabbed your right hand, turning your wrist so he could see the black marker on your skin.

“Darling, what have you done? After everything I did to keep your soul safe…”

“I never asked you to do that,” you pointed out, anger coloring your tone. “At least Winston gave me a choice. You just made it for me!”

“I did what I had to do!” He hissed, eyes flashing with anger as he let go of you. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing; I want no part on it. I will not help you damn your soul to hell.”

You saw his eyes turning the familiar black they usually did when he was using his powers to vanish but this time nothing happened. John looked at you in confusion and you smirked, nodding at his feet and he glanced down at the devil’s trap you had drawn before you summoned him.

“Have a little faith, Jonathan. I do know what I’m doing now. You don’t have to worry about my soul. As a matter of fact, I’m here to save yours.”

“What?” John looked at you with a frown and you smiled.

“I can get your contract,” you explained, taking out the black book from your jacket pocket. “I just have to wrangle up a few hundred escapees from hell and I could use some help. So how about a deal?”

“I help you and you give me my contract?” John asked, his anger long gone, leaving only hope and you nodded with a smile. “And then what? We drive out into the sunset together? I know Winston, darling. And I know the High Table. It’s not gonna be that easy.”

“Probably not.” You shrugged. “But it’s a shot at least. More than we had before. John, I’m doing this with or without you. If you don’t want this, just say the word. I’ll break the trap and…”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before John was smashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss. You grinned against his mouth, arms going around his neck and soon enough you felt it running through you, the thrum of power as the deal was sealed.

‘Can you hear me?’ You thought just to make sure, and John pulled back grinning.

“Yes,” he said bringing your hand to his lips. “And I can feel you.”

“Yeah? And how am I feeling?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair and resting your forehead against his, sighing.

“Happy.”

xxx

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isafalco · 4 years

Text

Getting Back Into Nico’s Good Graces

Featuring: @silasbriar, @thomaswieland, @presleystone, @isafalco

Location: The Barn

Summary: Silas convinces Thomas to force Blair to torture Isa and Presley to test his and her loyalty and possibly impress Nico with some sadistic tendencies.

Warnings: Gratuitous violence, torture.

Silas:

It takes a little artistry to get it all set up, but nothing even remotely outside of his abilities. The chains in the barn are prepped and there are two vials of wolfsbane in Silas’ pocket as he stalks his first target. The manor is abuzz with one panic or another, a wolf recovering from her near-death encounter, or a human seriously injured for reasons unbeknownst to him. They’re distracted, and not looking to the shadows where Silas lurks.

He spots the first one, the former Beta (the bonded one) and is grappling her from behind before she could make a sound. He plunges a syringe full of wolfsbane into her neck until he can feel her struggle losing its strength, then has them both out of the back door and into the barn in seconds.

The second wolf he’s less graceful with. Isa gets a hand over her mouth, seemingly from nowhere, dragged backwards out of the manor, then tossed halfway across the lawn in a display of strength to set the tone of helplessness for the rest of her unfortunate evening. He’s at her side again before she can recover, and throws her, again and again, until she’s inside of the barn being chained up against the wall, directly opposite from where Presley droops in her own mess of chains– wrists and feet– and feeling the effects of the poison.

Silas rubs his hands together and sighs while he admires his work. “Thank you for joining us this evening. And now we wait for our guest of honor.”

Thomas:

Thomas does no explaining, already testing the limits of how obedient Blair plans to be tonight during their little show. The scene is already set by the time they enter, the two wolves chained and the smell of wolfsbane sharp and cloying. Blair must be able to smell it too. The role of tormentor is all too easy to fall into, and he finally turns to the wolf by his side.

“Earn your place. These wolves practically attacked my dear brother and they need punishing. If you’re truly on our team, then there’s no going back to this wretched little pack anyway. Time to strike a match and burn the pieces of your old family to ash.”

Thomas rummages around in his pocket, transferring a few items in slow movements into Blair’s hands. A dagger. A lighter. And another syringe of wolfsbane for good measure, destined for the wolf of her choice. “Restore the family name, pet. Get as creative as you’d like. I’ll stop you when I’m satisfied.”

Blair:

Blair doesn't know why exactly Thomas called her, though she has been enjoying the brief respite after her encounter with Nico. Not that it seemed to help, considering Riley almost got murdered because the head vampire wanted to throw a tantrum, but that is a problem for someone else that wasn't her. Thomas seems uncharacteristically silent as he leads her to the barn, and her steps falter briefly as the acrid bitterness of wolfsbane reaches her nose. She's had enough of the scent for the rest of her life.

But none of that compares when she sees who is waiting for her. Silas, and Isa and Presley. She doesn't know what they did to anger Silas, whether they did anything at all. The lighter and dagger are pressed into her hands but Blair simply stares at the two wolves in front of her, a blank expression on her face.

Internally, she is scrambling. She has known this moment would come and yet she still feels entirely blindsided. Finally, she turns back to Thomas and Silas, hoping that her internal conflict is not written all over her face.

"How is me torturing anyone fun for you? Okay, I get it, this is a loyalty test. So let me fight one of them. We've got dead leg Barbie over here and the dead Alpha's runaway sister, so it's hardly a fair fight to begin with, but at least it doesn't feel like kicking a puppy."

She keeps her eyes trained on the vampires, back ramrod straight, knowing that if she turns around, she may lose her nerve. "If I win, then pretty sure that bridge gets burned anyways. If I lose, well then, better you know sooner rather than later."

Silas:

Silas rolls his eyes and with heavy, impatient steps in Blair’s direction, he gets a hand around the back of her neck and forcibly walks her towards Isa. “You were given an order, pet, and a purpose. We’re not interested in standing here and watching you negotiate your way around this like someone who may be a tad bit still on the fence about where her loyalties lie. Which brings us right back to–” He pushes, hard, when they reach the chained wolf, then takes a few steps backwards with his palms toward the ceiling like a showman. “–Get creative! Cut your old, beloved Alpha’s memory from your life and you’ll have won the beginnings of an official welcome to the family. This isn't fun, love, it's principal. It's symbolic. It's loyalty, earned." When he finds his way back to Thomas' side, he places a hand on his shoulder and flashes a toothy grin. "The fun is just a bonus."

Isa:

She's never felt so helpless in battle before. A trained assassin who traded her life of camaraderie and family for something she probably will never come back from, and she had never been bested like this. Her body flies across the lawn like she's nothing but a rock skidding across the surface of a still body of water; Isa rolls, and then she's tossed again, and again, until she's inside the barn and chained against the wall with the same ones they use for the full moon. To her left, there's Presley, and the rotten smell of Wolfsbane that has her struggling against the chains like a wolf possessed, a growl sitting in her throat furiously.

There's a second, when Blair appears before her and she's given a dagger, that she pulls on her chains so hard the wood cracks under the pressure, but they're enchanted, and keeping Isa so tightly in place she knows she won't get out of them. But anger boils in her chest, and when she finally settles against the chains, she blows her hair out of her face, looking at Blair through her eyelashes. She knows what's coming; Isa grips the chains harder, grips her teeth. Its not the first time she's been doused in wolfsbane, it probably won't be the last.

"Do your worst, bitch". She spouts, laughing under her breath. "Loyalty means nothing to you anyway".

Blair:

Of course Silas is the one to respond, his inability to stay out of anything probably causing a good chunk of this. She doesn't bother masking the annoyance or the trepidation that she felt. Hiding would only make it seem like she has something worth investigating, and that would be worse. So if he gets an extra wave of disgust, that is all sincere on her end too. Her jaw twitches slightly, wanting to point out that she could "get creative" by doing exactly what she had asked, but she doesn't know what else these two have planned. If this is only the first part, she couldn't pull out her ace at the start of the game. Isa and Presley would be fine. They are both soldiers, and beyond that, both are survivors. Even after telling herself that, Blair doesn't feel any better.

A cold expression sweeps across her face as she turns toward Isa. Presley is still in and out of it seemingly, with wolfsbane already running through her so Blair turns her focus back on the brunette. She steps into Isa's space, face to hers, and holds out the syringe to her. "All right hero, since you want to talk a tough game, I'll make you a deal. Either, you put this entire syringe of wolfsbane in yourself or I'll put it in Presley and we can see what her pain tolerance really is."(edited)

Isa:

Up close and even through the syringe, the wolfsbane reeks, and it makes Isa's nose flare. She bares her teeth, hands tightening around her chains and sweat running down her forehead. Of course she would take the wolfsbane, better her than Presley. The decision is easy, as her eyes flicker to her unconscious beside her. But its not just about Presley, or her, or this -- its about betrayal, and thinking about Blair making a mockery of her brother's legacy and Victoria's pack like this.

They're too close, too close and personal and Isa's pissed. So pissed that all she does is tighten her jaw, draw her head back, and head-butt Blair on the nose as hard she possibly could while dangling from those chains. It makes her forehead throb, bruise, but it leaves her with a sadistic sense of satisfaction. Like killing hunters again... "I already said do your worst. What are you waiting for? Instructions?"

Presley:

It happens fast. Presley hears footsteps, goes to turn and before she can clue in to the smell of wolfsbane, she feels it. It's a low dose but mixed the right way, like a sedative. She fights for only a second before it passes and when she finds realy consciousness again, she's in the bar, chains holding her arms and legs, her head hung. The sound of something like a scuffle besides her clues her in just as Blair knocks backward. She sees who did it, eyes suddenly wide and on high alert as she pulls against the chains holding her back. "Isa? What's --" There are two vampires in front of them, and Presley knows the feeling of the weakness in her bones all too well. The very thought of that, and Isa beside her makes her heart race. She looks from Blair, to the vampires, the woman chained beside her. "Let her go. Let us both go. Blair you don't have to do this."

Thomas:

An involuntary snarl leaves his lips as he watches Isa wind up and headbutt Blair with jarring force, some misplaced protective instinct for this wolf he was supposed to be protecting surfacing. He finds a place for his fury to go. Presley stirs, pipes up, and he draws more attention to it, forcing Blair to acknowledge it. If he wants to earn Nico’s forgiveness, it needs to be a good show. Both wolves will have to come back bruised and shaken. Drifting close behind Blair, he runs fingertips lightly over the curve of her shoulder, full of taunting advice. “No pressure, pet. But I’m bored already. Nice half-hearted attempt. Choices are always a good start, it’s a real lose-lose situation. But you know from experience wolves are suffering, simpering, stoic little martyrs. She’ll always choose to hurt herself first. These two are lovers. The pain isn’t in hurting them both. It’s in them having to watch the other get hurt. Why do you think they’re face to face?”

He raises his voice to address the two wolves. “This is Blair’s little show, and she can steer the ship, but one note from me. Lock eyes for that romantic ambience, you two. If either of you choose to look away from your beloved, to look down from the pain on her face, to shut your eyes for a momentary respite….I break one of your girlfriend’s fingers. I guess that gives you ten chances to look away.”

Blair:

The burst of pain that explodes behind nose makes her eyes water, and she can immediately taste the blood from where her teeth split her lip. The growl she lets out in response isn't forced, and she bares bloody teeth at Isa before her eyes snap towards Presley who is now awake, with her idiotically earnest eyes. She is barely able to meet her gaze for a second before Thomas commands attention once more, his hands ghosting along her skin. For a split second, she has the urge to shove the dagger into his throat, but she stamps that down.

Blair knows that having two wolves out of commission, especially having these specific two wolves out of commission is dangerous to the pack. She has to make a decision, and it would be far easier to throw a punch at Isa than at Presley, not because the blonde was weak, but because knowing that the other wolf would spend the entire time trying to make everyone other than herself feel better.

"If I'm supposed to be the creative one, you both are trying to take a whole lot of artistic license. And you suck at emotional torture. Sure, you can send them back all bruised and bloody, but they puff out their chests and tell each other how proud they are of each other for making it through. It doesn't last past tonight. Send one back pristine while the other ends up in a full-body cast? That's where you make the guilt roll in. Also, Presley's bonded. If you want to piss off Miss Aemilia, again I might add, go right ahead, but that probably would be the opposite of making your daddy happy. So I'll do whatever sick torture porn fantasy you have with Isa, make Presley watch, because that's going to hurt her way more than any bad leg ever would. Then when all this is over, she can torture herself for being perfectly unharmed while her girlfriend is nursing some broken ribs. Everyone happy with that?"

Isa:

In the most twisted of ways, Blair is right. This is a sure way to make them suffer. Making the other watch while one remains unharmed, but its relieving, all in the same, because she'll be the target of Blair's torture and Presley will come out unscathed. Its not the first time she's been tortured, something tells her it won't be the last. Whatever pain Blair puts her through she knows she'll be able to handle, regardless of how beaten, and bruised, and out of commission it will put her.

She tilts her chin up, looks at Presley apologetically -- she doesn't know why, this isn't her fault, but she has the vague reminder that Presley had watched someone she loved be tortured before, in a way that was eerily similar to this one. Isa inhales sharply, lets the air fill her lungs like she's preparing herself for the inevitable. "What are you waiting for? You're wasting my time. If you're going to torture me get on with it. I'm bored".

Presley:

It takes only a second or her to get her bearings, to take in the situation, hear Thomas's voice again and understand fully what's going on. presley's heart hammers, her blood runs with wolfsbane -- no doubt so does Isa's now too. And as they continue, as she hears Blair's spiel and fights the hold on her chains, she's reminded of this moment -- of staring back into the eyes of someone that matters and not being able to do anything. Her stomach flips, the air leaves her lungs. And in that moment, exactly, it all makes sense. She and Blair had discussed Eden, discussed the torture Presley had faced while her girlfriend watched. Switching the target -- it's protective. It has to be. Which means that somewhere, somewhere in Blair there's a shred of who she really is underneath it. "Blair --" Presley tugs at the chains but her eyes stay on Isa, not at all willing to break the vampire's rules. "Blair you don't have to do this. We're a pack. We're your pack. I know you feel scared, and alone, and you don't want to lose things again but none of us -- we can help you. I'll do it with you. You don't have to hurt her, you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

Blair:

Blair is glad that for the twisted instruction that makes Isa and Presley look at each other instead of at her. Hearing them is hard enough, but to face either of their accusatory stares would make this near impossible. And Presley... listening to her plead with Blair is both exactly what she wants and the opposite of that. Hearing those worlds helps, knowing that maybe people haven't entirely given up on her yet, but at the same time, she needs everyone to give up on her for this plan to work.

"Give it up, Superstar. We're not a pack. Even your girlfriend over there will tell you that. We're not going to kumbaya this away with your trusty guitar, so as Isa requested, let's get on with it."

She tosses the dagger on the ground, not caring to give herself yet another edge during this farce of a test. If they won't let Isa out to create a fair fight, then she could do at least this much. Without warning, her fist strikes out and catches Isa on the bridge of her nose, and Blair takes advantage of the surprise to stab the syringe of wolfsbane into her neck. She steps away briefly as the poison works its way through Isa's body, and Blair takes a moment to steady herself. There is no more need to gloat or talk, just a singleminded focus on getting through this intact. And with that, she wastes no time on raining blows down on Isa.September 7, 2020

Isa:

It comes fast and it comes hard, a right hook to the nose that immediately makes her bleed, blood rushing down her mouth. She doesn't wince, she only takes it, but she knows its broken and she'll have to set it back in place by the time this was all over. But what comes next is even more painful: wolfsbane. She's always described the feeling as being shot up with embers, the type that sizzle and make her entire body burn like she's been set on fire. What comes out of her mouth is a whimper, like a dog defeated; her muscles go weak and she looses her grip on the chains keeping her steady until she can't hold her neck up any longer, and she falls limp against her chains.

She's been beat up before, multiple times, with and without wolfsbane, but with the wolfsbane coursing through her veins, she can't tense her muscles to make the blows hurt less. There's blood on her neck from her cracked nose and bruises surely forming under her shirt, Blair's punches making her rock against the chains like a punching bag, all the while keeping her half open eyes on Presley as she watches Blair beat the crap out of her.

Isa coughs, with a second to breathe, and spits blood on the floor that she wishes she could wipe with the back of her hand. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but air gets caught in her throat at the pain on her sides. All she can do is grit her bloody teeth together again.

Blair:

She channels all of her rage and hurt into her attack on Isa. Blair tries to forget the way she can feel bones cracking under her knuckles, hoping that maybe some of those crunches are her own hands giving way. A small price to pay in exchange for this. She doesn't bother to check whether they're still looking at each other and she figures that one of the vampires will have something to say if they don't.

By the time she pauses, there is a thick scent of blood filling the barn, almost enough to mask the wolfsbane. Blair blinks, staring at a very battered and bruised wolf, and she almost loses her nerve in that moment. Loyalty means nothing to you anyway. Isa's words bounce and rattle around in her head, along with Presley's pleas for her to do the right thing. It's too much and enough is enough. Maybe if she can end this now, she would have enough time to pass a message to Ellery before even more damage was caused.

She steps away from Isa and turns to look at Presley for a long moment, wondering if the wolf finally hates her now as she should. Then she glances at Silas and Thomas, a disinterested expression flitting across her face. "Okay, so we good here? Let them limp back, I'm sure the wolves will cry about it some more, and you get to have all the angry threats you can twist into something else that's fucked. Did I pass? Again?"

Presley:

She wants to look at Blair, wants to look her in the eyes and see what's there, figure out what's causing all of this. Because Presley can't fathom that it's betrayal. It doesn't make sense, as Blair calls Aemilia Miss Aemilia, and forgoes the tools for her fists. She can't fathom that the same Blair who sympathized with her brother and their pack and everything they'd gone through would turn and betray them all -- betray Derrick -- now. I must be something else. She repeats the broken sound of Blair's words when they fought in her head, and knows if nothing else, that there's a person under all of this pain that wants something. Like Elias, like Ronan, like the people who they'd all met who had done awful things for reasons people couldn't understand -- but reasons all the same.

But her focus on what Blair might need goes out the door fast when she starts wailing on Isa anyway. At first, Presley flinches, a few times, jaw steeled as much as she can against the wolfsbane in her own system. BUt as she continues, panic hits. "Blair, stop!" She finally blurts out, abrupt and pained and pushing past all her better judgement about giving them the satisfaction they want. There are tears in her eyes she'd barely felt, and her head feels foggy with memories and her rapidly beating heart. Her voice cracks when the beating stops and she tries to use it again but she doesn't look away from Isa's bloodied face. Not once. "Please stop...."

Thomas:

The dagger hits the ground and Thomas sighs, a quiet sound. Fists and fighting don’t seem out of the usual for the wolves, just more of the same pain, but the wolfsbane will bring a sharper, less familiar edge to it all. The barn smells of iron and the cracking of bones bounce back from the barn walls, and he by the time Blair stops it looks like the chains are the only thing keeping Isa’s slender body from crumpling the the ground. His eyes stray to Presley, treated to the novel sight of the stoic wolf streaked with tears and panicked. He doesn’t answer Blair's question. Silas is the supposedly affronted party and the one who wanted to watch the wolves bleed, the one who didn’t trust Blair, the one who might whisper to Nico that Thomas was still worth trusting.

“Up to my elder, pet. I always respect the hierarchy.”

Supernaturally fast, he flits to pick up the dropped and forgotten dagger and is back in front of Blair in an instant, dragging the blade across his palm. If she’s so determined to leave Presley unmarred physically, he refuses to let her escape the same fate. No, he wants the scrapes across her knuckles to disappear and the fragile bones of them to mend. Let the other wolves picture darker weapons than her fists when they looked at her torn apart packmate. He presses the bleeding gash to cover her mouth, blocking Blair’s air until she’s forced to swallow. It’s the first time he’s forced her to do anything, a conscious choice since she first told him she didn’t have a choice in her original bond. Turning to exit the barn, he squeezes Silas’ shoulder on the way past but doesn’t make eye contact, giving him little chance to stop him from leaving. He doesn’t believe his brother will bicker about family drama in front of the wolves, not when it would sour the mood of the performance.

Isa:

She's barely holding herself together, once Blair stops railing on her with her fists, but barely makes a sound. Something akin to a shaky breath leaves her lips, and she doesn't know if what falls down her cheekbones is sweat, blood, or tears. Her wrists are limp against the chains as her head lulls forward, unable to hold herself upright for much longer; she thinks she sees Thomas heal Blair, but its a blur, even Presley looks foggy through her eyes.

Its hard not to focus on her pain, but its everywhere, on her chest, on her ribs, on her abdomen. In a fair fight she might have the upper hand, but with the wolfsbane weakening her body its so incapacitating she can barely move, and when she finally decides to speak up, her words tremble, her lips shake, they come through a bloodied mouth and a hoarse voice. "When... all of this is over..." She spats and even though her eyes are on Presley, the threat is for Blair, and only Blair. "... I'm going... to slit your throat... and I'm going... to enjoy it. Remember that... Falcos... Keep their word".

Silas:

Silas lingers with his lips pursed. He’s not completely satisfied, what with all of the excessive talking and negotiating, the dropping the knife and the lighter when they were the sole, implied parameters, the lack of the creativity he had expected… but then again, these are wolves, and he’s not completely disappointed either. Isa is in rough shape, and the threat to Blair is the cherry on the cake. It takes a second of mulling over his level of satisfaction before he turns sharply on his heels and begins to follow Thomas. "Come, pet," he commands over his shoulder with a sharp whistle like one might call a dog. "Leave them."

Blair:

She doesn't know what she was expecting, but the bitter taste of blood explodes on her tongue as Thomas shoves his bleeding hand against her lips. There is a slight albeit futile struggle, and there is a stark look of shocked betrayal on her face before she forces it away. She supposes this is a small price to pay for defying their demands, but as he walks away from her, she can feel the split skin on her knuckles beginning to knit back together. The ache remains, but as though this had happened days ago, not minutes.

Isa's threat, as labored as her words are, hits home and Blair turns, caught between Silas and Thomas' retreating backs, and Presley and Isa still hanging by their chains. She wants to ask how long they'll be locked up, but she knows she's not supposed to. She's not supposed to care about them. But she also can't say nothing. So she walks back over to Isa, uncaring about the bloody mess that is spattered around her. She tilts her head up, gently but with purpose, and she blocks her view of Presley so that the wolf has to focus on her.

"If you manage to get the jump on me, I'll let you do it." She forces a levity into her words, but she means them nonetheless. Not that either of them would understand. She doesn't bother to look at Presley as she turns and follows the vampires.

Blair needs to find Ellery.

#c: presley #c: silas #c: thomas #c: blair

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cloudwriteblr · 4 years

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~ * ~ * ~ jess’ wip masterlist ~ * ~ * ~

This is just a masterpost for all my wips and it’ll be under the cut just not to annoy people/flood their dash. Also everything is subject to change because i’m impulsive and love making my life more difficult.

Let me know if you want tagged to anything

[Duology] [Writing] [Spy/Thriller/Action] [Worldwide, mainly European Countries] [MC: Andy]

World peace is precariously balanced on a knife’s edge. One wrong move could have disastrous consequences. An untold number of deaths would closely follow. Those who know about the delicate world state notice a highly distressing trend: a series of deaths and kidnappings of important people and those closest around them.

The group, The Collective, are carrying out these missions and they were highly trained and unrecognisable. These missions wouldn’t be linked together if it wasn’t for their signature, a black business card left in the bloodbath.

A team is quickly put together with one goal; find and eliminate The Collective, no matter the cost. By whatever means necessary. The only problem. The one chosen to lead. They were no better than them. A burnt spy, an ex-assassin and an ex member of The Collective, they alone were said to be responsible for a high number of violent killings.

But in order to keep the delicate peace, sometimes pardoning the enemy of thy enemy is a necessary evil…

Bloodshed, chaos and death await.

[Standalone] [Writing] [Mystery/New Adult] [Beckton Bay] [MC: Callie]

Calista ��Callie’ Fletcher was forced to return home to the small sleepy town of Beckton Bay, she didn’t know what to expect. Reconnect with the few remaining friends from school, get her old job back at one of the only restaurant bars in the town, maybe have a string of not serious flings with the non-locals who passed through the Bay. That was the height of it. Her plans derailed the moment, he walked through the door. He wasn’t meant to be there. They both left Beckton Bay at the same time, together, they never meant to return. It was only fitting that they returned mere weeks after each other. But the same force that dragged Callie back, also dragged him back. It was up to them to figure out what mysterious force was at play here in Beckton Bay and why it was killing so many people from the class of 2013.

[Standalone] [Outlining] [Supernatural/Detective] [Belfast, Northern Ireland] [MC: Charlie]

Tragedy followed Charlotte MacGuire around, it had been her constant shadow and companion since the night of her parent’s murder when she was a young teenager. The only reason Charlie managed to survive was because she wasn’t there. The police, who eventually began her colleagues, told her the murder was a result of a home invasion gone wrong, but Charlie knew better, it wasn’t the truth. The MacGuire family was targeted for the simple reason of them being werewolves.

The perpetrator or perpetrators were never caught.

Fourteen years later, she was targeted for the same reason, she barely survived the attack and had been forced to take four months off the job. Her attack was the first in a series of attacks against the small supernatural community that called Belfast their home. It was up to Charlie to stop these attacks once and for all.

[Series] [Writing, slowly] [New Adult, Romance] [Sunrise Cove] [MC: Victoria]

When Victoria Walker was given the opportunity to help the up and coming legal aid centre that her law firm financially backed. She jumps at the chance as this opportunity shouldn’t happen to her, especially not after having a stress educed breakdown in front of one of the firm’s highest paying clients.

Most would have seen this as a punishment, watching over and help mentor a bunch of arrogant and rude recent law school grads who think they knew everything about law. But not Victoria, she saw it as anything but a punishment. She wanted to give back to the small town that helped raise her.

The Walkers sisters were only meant to move to this quiet seaside town for nine months – a year at most. But everything changes when Victoria meets Casey Markov, the closed off but kind hearted man who managed one of the local restaurants.

[Duology] [Outlining] [Supernatural/War] [London, England] [MC: Ripley]

Ripley Balfour was a survivor through and through. The night her family was murdered, she survived that. Ripley didn’t want the life she’d been forced to live.

She was one of the few witches who managed to live on the fringes of society. She managed to survive because avoided the rest of the supernatural community. She was lucky to live like this as she was never registered, despite the law. Her existence was illegal.

The constant whispers of a brewing supernatural revolt started to look like a possibility. They were looking for a leader and that was Ripley, all she had to do was survive once more.

[Standalone] [Outlining] [New Adult] [Dublin, Ireland] [MC: Bethany]

After a failed long term relationship, Bethany Morgan returned back to Dublin. It wasn’t a place she considered home anymore, she left the Irish capital six years ago for University in London. Her parent’s house didn’t feel like home anymore, all Bethany ever wanted was to feel at home again. Reuniting with childhood friends didn’t helped much. Starting new hobbies distracted her. But nothing helped.

Bethany Morgan was so lost.

[Standalone] [Re-Outlining] [Supernatural/War] [90′s, Northern Ireland] [MC: Mattie]

As the events of 90′s rage on in Northern Ireland, another underground war wages on between the covert supernatural population. The allegiances of mainstream Northern Ireland didn’t necessarily translate here. No trusts anyone, not even their neighbours. Everyone was more than willing to sell you out at a moments notice.

[Series] [Re-Outlining] [Supernatural/War] [MC: Alex]

Following the death of Maria Rundolfa just over six months ago, Scarlett, Maria’s youngest daughter, assumed that she’d take over what had remained of the former legendary Pack and try to restore them to their former glory. But when Alex, who vanished over ten years ago without so much as a goodbye, stumbles in through the door all bloodied and stinking of booze, while yelling intelligible notions about the prophecy. Scarlett is forced to step aside as the prophecy states that it’s the oldest living daughter who will be their saviour. Alex finally understands that for as long as she’s still breathing, she has to do anything in her power to save her secret.

A secret that she’d give up everything to protect, even her humanity.

[Standalone] [Vague idea with vague characters] [New Adult/Adventure] [London, England] [MC: Odie]

To call the Rowley family rich was a drastic understatement. They came from century’s old money, they would never have to worry about anything. Just an occasional investment was more than enough to keep them afloat for at least the next few decades.

Odette, better known as Odie to her fellow socialite friends, never had to work for anything. Whatever she wanted she was handed on a silver platter. That was the Rowley way. The latest trends? Odie set them. Expensive and all in exclusive holidays in the top hotels, she took them many times a year.

So when a series of death threats were made against Odie, everyone took them incredibly seriously. Arthur, the head of the Rowley family, even hired her a private bodyguard to watch and protect Odie at every turn. This wasn’t something Odie wanted at all, someone judging her for the life she didn’t ask to be born into. That was until Odie met her bodyguard and she took her breath away.

[Short Story] [Drafting] [Horror] [Third Person] [Co. Armagh, Northern Ireland]

If you enter these woods after dark, don’t expect to come back at all. Alive or dead. If you do find yourself trying to spend the night, for the love of God, just stay inside your tent. No matter what. Just ignore the sounds of the woods. Just stay inside. Ignore everything. The screams of your friends who thought they would be brave and venture off.

Despite the constant warnings that surrounded the woods, people, mainly teenagers who wished to prove how brave they were, still ventured into them. Trying to stay the night. But these warnings were there for a reason. Anything can happen, but what happened to the waves of campers was never known. The prevailing thought was that these woods were the hunting grounds of a local killer. Some thought it was the disgruntled ageing farmer. An uncommon theory was that the woods held some sort of supernatural power. Maybe even a portal to Hell. No one knew the truth.

After dark there were no survivors.

#writeblr #wip intro #wip masterlist #mine #[i don't want to admit how long this took to make]#[spoiler: too long]#[but now i can actually start using my blog now that it's set up correctly and properly]

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