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familyagrestefanblog · 3 years

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Jackady: The importance of the father-son hug scene

One of my favorite Adrien-Gabriel moments to this day is still the ending scene of "Jackady" but I have seen more confusion for it than clarity in the Fandom so here is my analysis on it for why I love it so much. Because as the seasons go by this moment sustaines so much more significance that I simply HAVE to talk about it!

While it isn't the only Adrien-Gabriel scene that does it, I adore this scene because it shows perfectly that in the beginning their little, broken family could have made it out of this tragedy stronger and maybe even better but the reality that Adrien and Gabriel are also Chat Noir and Hawkmoth not only hinders those chances, it actively drives them further apart into destruction

Maybe one day I'll give all my thoughts to the entire scene and just go on a rambling post about it (because I love EVERYTHING about this scene) but for now, let's just focus on the main aspects that really sell it to me.

I give Gabriel alot of shit on my blog for obvious reasons. I refuse to generally give him the same positive and conciderate treatment as Adrien, Marinette and the other kid characters because unlike them HE is an adult, a father and the villain of the show. The adult and villain part I'm not taking too personal because those are "just" the traditional aspects of his character type. But what is incredibly unique about him is the fact that even if he is this evil villain type he still gets to be the realistic type of abusive and (truly) bad father with sympathetic moments like this:

This moment of shock and fear is not something you would normally see in a family cartoon from an evil parental figure the child longs to bond with without setting the parent up for redemption. But as we now know by s3, Gabriel is only getting increasingly worse and more abusive and Adrien is starting to let go of his father to move on without him and defying his will. It's quite clear now that their future will not be anywhere near good, "Chat Blanc" showed us what's to come.

And this is exactly why I love this scene. Because, yes, this family will go up in flames and never truly reconcile ever again (Gabriel went WAY too far for that in the way he abuses/will abuse Adrien) but the show doesn't shy away from showing us the transitional phase in between which really not alot of media dares to. Normally when they stay enemies or their situation doesn't end in an at least somewhat forgiving way this transition is simply mostly skipped to not having to let the bad parent have realistic and sympathetic moments in their downfall into madness/villainy (especially with their victim).

Miraculous does and it's beautifully tragic because you can just... SEE the situation unfold and understand where the eventual fate of the family comes from.

The pure misunderstanding between these two in this scene, the way they just talk RIGHT PAST each other because the other one can not understand the problem cuz they don't know the secret identity of the other one is... brutal!

This moment here could have worked for them. It could have been a genuine step forward in their relationship and saved their family but it got completely CRUSHED by their secret identities as Chat Noir and Hawkmoth.

Let me show you what I mean:

THIS is a moment I AM giving Gabriel genuine credit for, because you can turn it any way you want it won't change the fact that, for his situation, THIS was the right question to ask his son. But at the same time it's just such a... horrible thing to say here oh my GOD.

And that's the ugly, UGLY beauty here.

If Gabriel weren't Hawkmoth (if someone else were Hawkmoth so the situation would still have happened) he would not have reacted to the fucking ring. He would have thought nothing of it and had remained focused on Adrien, because that was his original intention (problematically executed but that's beside the point now).

After Gabriel got himself in life threatening danger because he didn't listen to Adriens concerns, he went to him to hug him as apology. THIS is Gabriels way of apologizing and trying to make up for his faults. He's obviously not good at verbalizing his feelings properly and at normal interpersonal dynamics in general. So what he does is trying to make his feelings known in a... "material/physical" way. This does not only show through Gabriel just buying the best things for Adrien without ever being there for him, it also shows in the way he physically interacts with his loved ones when he genuinely wants to show his love. Because for how seriously antisocial and unreachable as he normally is, he also gets... quite touchy.

The shoulder touch thing Adrien does as well to show his affection for someone, him hugging Adrien both times he got a wake up call and literally everything thats happening between him and Natalie at this point lol.

Him hugging Adrien here is just as much of a big deal as Adriens expressions make it seem to be

But the father-son moment couldn't last because the villain-hero alter egos interfered. Gabriel being Hawkmoth rightfully stopped the moment here, because reacting to even the slightest chance of your own child being the hero you try to destroy is undoubtedly the right way to handle this (even if the way he did it wasn’t ideal, that's not something I would expect from any character in that situation), but nevertheless it still utterly crushed the moment.

Cuz just because it is the right thing for HAWKMOTH to ask his son Adrien who he fears COULD be Chat Noir, doesn't it mean that it is anywhere close to okay for Adrien/Chat Noir to hear this very question in that moment from his father who he thinks as a normal civilian in this.

And Adriens expression once again makes this perfectly clear

(You know the offense just reached an other dimension when the kid, who is already well aware and used to their fathers emotionally painful ways, makes a face like THAT)

Cause here is the thing. We all know by now that Adrien has some serious self esteem issues and that while he tries to over play it (especially as Chat) he just doesn't hold himself in high regards or even likes himself very much. Hence why he goes all out on the acting as Chat Noir and doesn't defend himself much.

But just because he doesn't like himself that much doesn't it mean he still doesn't want that very validation and appreciation from his father. Just like all of us and everyone on earth, Adrien wants to be loved for himself, even if he doesn't/can't do it himself. Thats normal and is something that can deeply damage you when you don't get it from your own parent/s.

So tell me, do you see why Adrien was so CRUSHED when in probably the first time since his mother's disappearance Gabriel gave him the genuine and all present love he wanted for so long, just for Gabriel to cut their moment short and FOCUSE ON THE RING?

The one thing on Adrien that makes him become "someone else" so he can escape from having to be himself for a bit.

And for Adrien it now seems like that in his own fathers eyes this ONE thing Gabriel shouldn't even know could be anything special about if he weren't Hawkmoth, is the ONLY thing worth noticing about his own son so it catches his eyes.

It tells Adrien right to the face that nothing Adrien was and did to make his father happy up to this point measured up with Gabriels expectations. All of Adriens efforts, his patience and his hopes of earning his fathers love and happiness if he only does well enough, literally in vain. It wasn't enough. It's wasn't enough for Gabriel to notice in comparison to the ring apperently.

From Adriens view you can interpret it two ways:

1. Since earlier Gabriel also took a closer look at Chat Noirs ring Adrien now thinks correctly that his father is seeing his new ring as a sign that he could be Chat Noir. This would mean that in Adriens eyes Gabriel would have cut their moment, an action of validation and love Adrien has longed, worked and patiently waited for so LONG, short and basically forgot all about Adrien himself because there is a SLIGHT possibility that Adriens ring means he COULD be Chat Noir. His own father literally choosing his secret identity over his civilian one as Adrien, the son Gabriel had for 14 years, is beyond crushing. And while it seems strange for Adrien to take offense in this because, well, he IS Chat Noir so what the big deal? The big deal here is, again, that as Chat Adrien is literally trying NOT to be himself. He uses the opportunity of being an anonymous hero to escape from having to be Adrien Agreste in every way he can. Gabriel throwing aside the son who is literally standing in front of him and who did his darn best to be there for him in his own time of grieving his mother to basically only focus on Chat Noir (a person Gabriel in the end of the day shouldn't and doesn't know) possibly being his son, is such a fucked up scenario to throw onto Adriens already low self esteem what the actual fuck.

Or 2. That Adrien simply takes his father choosing to focus on his "simple" new ring out of all things as a clear "I see nothing else worth noticing in you, so to keep this conversation up I have to grasp at straws so I guess I'll be taking about your new ring".

No matter how one chooses to interpret the moment, it's equally as much of a "fuck you" either way. I know Gabriel could have said worse here, but honestly, the list isn't that long.

So when after this Adrien reacts like this:

It should really not come by any surprise. Although, no, it is kind of surprising. Surprising that Adrien didn't react alot worse than this. What Gabriel just threw at him is like the verbal equivalent of a loved one reaching out for you with a hand so they can caress your cheek but the moment you lean in they follow it up with a punch to the face.

It shows just how well Adrien has his emotions under control and is able to stay level headed under such great offense that THIS is the level of irrationality and anger he expresses after basically being out right disregarded by his own father (which should be of no surprise either, as Chat Noir Adrien has to put up with a whole lot of disrespect as well and there he for literally 95% of the time has to shrug it off as well).

But no matter how bad Gabriels line here was, it has nothing and I mean NOTHING on the awful way Gabriel then decides to react to Adriens appropriate but still very mild response.

Because THIS is the moment that sets up Gabriels betrayal and downfall as both a person and especially as a father. Up to this point Gabriel was a horrible person as well, no question. The entirety of s1 he already worked as Hawkmoth, manipulating people, putting them in great danger and planning the demise of two teenagers with sadistic glee. But still one has to acknowledge the difference in these two situations.

In one Gabriel is hiding in a secret lair, manipulating people he thinks beneath him to do the dirty work for him and fight two anonymous heros he just wants to get rid of to reach his goal. Gabriel is taking so much pleasure out of terrorizing Paris and it's people because he legitimately doesn't give a single fuck about them or holds any kind of personal connection to them either. He never goes outside and is very antisocial so these people and their city mean nothing to him because they ARE nothing to him. His (self chosen) isolation and lifestyle pretty much disconnected Gabriel from real life and a normal way of expressing and receiving human emotions. So when there are no emotional stakes for him personally, he sees no reason to not satisfy his villainous desires as Hawkmoth.

So as odd as it may seem to say, him terrorizing Paris prior to this is not the point of crossing the line for his character. For that it's simply to impersonal.

No, the point of crossing the line happens here with Adrien. With Gabriels character things will always come back to Adrien at its core. Adrien (not Emilie, Natalie or anyone else) is the person Gabriel temporarily truly gave up being Hawkmoth for and Adrien is the one person Gabriel has his most human moments with. Not even in his bonding moments with Natalie does he show the same deep and true (misguided) love and affection as he gets to with Adrien in those rare moments (its close no doubt but something about Gabenath is not as deep and true as this father-son pair and I can't imagine it ever will).

This marks the point of no return for Gabriel because it's the first time he chose to deliberately abandon Adrien in the crossfire and decides to be the villain towards him instead of staying there to talk things out with him. It's the first time Adrien truly had Hawkmoth as his father. And Hawkmoth is Chat Noirs ememy so Gabriel fell into that role without Adrien knowing why.

And there is a solid reason for that.

One of the best things of this show is that no matter how horrible things get between these two, things are always much more complicated than a simple "evil father doesn't love his good son" situation. Gabriel calls Adrien "the image of perfection" in this very episode, that's sure as hell not hate or dislike in any way. That's love, that's adoration. This man ADORES his son. And this is were the deep rooted problem lies.

Gabriel loves and adores his SON. The ideal and perfectly perfect son Adrien could become when Gabriel is done forming him into it by suffocating any "imperfections" with an iron fist. It's just that these "imperfections" are always the characteristics that make Adrien ADRIEN. Gabriel may truly love his son but I'm not even sure if Gabriel even so much as LIKES Adrien himself.

And this is perfectly showcased by Gabriel turning away from Adrien in this very scene here.

Because even though Gabriel literally disrespected, shut down and belittled his son for the entire episode he still came to see and hug his Adrien afterwards because he loves him. But HIS Adrien, the perfectly perfect Adrien Gabriel wants him to be, wasn't the Adrien he met up with in his sons room. Instead he got an Adrien with a ring on his hand that could be Chat Noirs, making him possibly one of the two enemies he's trying to destroy.

Adding salt to the "wound" Adrien even backtalks him in a way that undoubtedly reminded him of Chat as well since Gabriel pointed out Chats temper in this very episode.

So Gabriel was very directly confronted with the possibility that Adrien could INDEED be Chat Noir and that naturally comes with the implications that Adrien deliberately disobeyed Gabriels orders accepting that ring, sabotaging Gabriel reaching his goal and in general doing everything his father DOESN'T want him to do BY CHOICE.

And here Gabriel made the decision that marks the point of no return, setting up the devastatingly horrible way this man is treating and will treat his son in the future.

Because this is the moment Gabriel SHOULD have chosen Adrien over his mission. The sheer possibility, no scratch that, even the SLIGHTEST TRACE of a possibility of Adrien being Chat Noir should have immediately made Gabriel take action to save and protect him. Because it's not like Chat hasn't been constantly in dangerous, life threatening or even situations that ended up in DEATH. If Gabriel would truly love ADRIEN his quest would have ended right here, stopping the upcoming horror this family will face before it could have really begun (hence why this was shown to us in an episode of s1, the season where Hawkmoths identity was still unknown. If Gabriel had stopped here not even WE would have known, leaving Gabriels name untainted of Hawkmoths crimes as the Agreste family finally moves on and Hawkmoth dissappeares as suddenly as he appeared.)

because Adrien and his health and life should not be a price Gabriel is willing to risk paying for his goal.

But Gabriel didn't do that.

Because instead of Adrien Gabriel chose the potential perfectly perfect son he wants and turned his back on the one standing right in front of him. Cuz remember what Gabriels goal IS. He wants to change the past, so non of this ever happened in the first place.

Meaning Gabriel turning his back on our present Adrien doesn't mean that Gabriel outright hates Adrien now by the next second cuz he dared to disobey his orders like that. But it means that Gabriel is choosing to separate these two Adriens in his mind, making endangering, hurting and working against THIS Adrien more of a collateral damage than actually hurting his own son. THAT son, the one Gabriel convinces himself he is fighting for, is waiting for him in the past alongside Emilie.

This separation was probably always there since Gabriel started trying to change the past hence why he justifies Adriens unhappiness and the way he abandones him as necessary sacrifices.

But the real separation started HERE, this marks the first time Gabriel just left Adrien behind in a position of complete and deliberate endangerment, knowing that the possibility of Adrien being Chat is still there but choosing to say: "if he indeed is, then that's an obstacle I will have to overcome."

This separation has been developing slowly but steadily through s2 and 3 right to "Chat Blanc" which tells us the future. Me elaborating on this "separation development" though became longer than I want to put in this post, therefore I will go into more depth about it another time.

So let me continue with this:

Adrien is like... Genuinely not even angry. More deeply sad.

He was appropriately and truly hurt when Gabriel only started talking about the ring but once Gabriel turns around and walks away? He looks after his father but more in a way as if he is waiting to see if Gabriel would actually take so much offense in him backtalking him to legitimately LEAVE like this. And Gabriel does.

Adriens intentions wasnt to make his father leave, When he talked back at him it was more of a hurt call out for Gabriel to say more, SOMETHING ELSE, but not to LEAVE!

Adrien then does something very common for people in a fight who wait for the leaving person to turn around again but have to realize that they hope in vain and the other person actually is done with this moment.

His face and body relaxes, he turns completely to the door and seems to... take it in.

Especially in the way Adrien does it here its like he is processing and accepting that what he thought of his father was wrong. Adrien thought Gabriel cared enough for him that he would want to stay even if he backtalks him for example. Adrien expected a conversation here but now had to realize that his father isn't gonna put up with him at all or their differences in an upfront way if Adrien isn't "behaving right". Gabriel will just cut the moment short and deflect whatever conversation with him he doesn't like.

All in all what Adrien took away from this moment with his father is even if Gabriel may care for him (enough to come and hug him as an apology) this care and affection is tightly bound to the way Adrien himself then reacts. If he reacts in a way Gabriel doesn't like he will very quickly deem Adrien undeserving of his affection and take it (and his entire presence) away again.

The way Adrien looks then at his ring also makes me think that he definitely blames himself for how this moment ended. That he "shouldn't have overreacted" and taken such personal offense by his fathers attempt to reconnect with him even if Gabriel hit one hell of a sore point.

This is of course BS. Even if Adrien wasn't Chat Noir the way Gabriel just straight up deflected the conversation to the ring right after the hug, where one normally starts to explain oneself and truly TALK, would have been seriously hurtful even under non-miraculous circumstances.

But it shows how Adrien by instinct immediately starts to invalidate his own feelings to look for the faults in himself. A self-hurtful coping mechanism that unfortunately only gets deepened as the dynamic between these two continues on.

And lastly it also marks the first time that the ring is truly associated with something bad. Normally (especially so early in the show) the ring stands in association with Adriens freedom and spending more time with people outside, him getting to let loose a little and how he can spend time with the girl he loves. The ring began to loose these positive associations more and more from s2 onward but the first time was here.

It's the object which ruined the moment that could have ended this tragedy before it truly began in both of their eyes and in the viewers. Sure Gabriel being Hawkmoth is the true cause of it and nothing will ever change that but it's Adriens ring, not Gabriels brooch, that sets their separation further in motion. Further as Gabriel initially intended to.

It's the factor Gabriel overlooks Adrien himself for, which is truly brought home by the end scene of "Gorizilla" which serves as a mirror to this one here.

Whereas in "Jackady" Gabriel lost sight of the son right in front of him because of the ring and what its implies, in "Gorizilla" Gabriel thinks he finally received the evidence that Adrien isn't his enemy. So for the first time Gabriel completely disregards the ring, Chat Noir out of his mind, sees ADRIEN for himself and genuinely smiles at him. He can and does make a TRUE attempt at reconnecting!

Which is of course exactly what Adrien wanted for so long, what he hoped Gabriel would do if hes just patient enough with his father. He accepts Gabriels genuine attempt gladly, reassuring his father that he and his efforts are noticed, appreciated and wanted even after everything that happened so they can hopefully go on to a better future.

This is what would have saved this family back in "Jackady" if only Gabriel had chosen the right priority. But as I said before, this moment here happens in s2 after Gabriel crossed the line in Jackady, so this positiv moment can not save them anymore. Both Gabriel and Adrien are already too far in and influenced by their alter egos and the miraculous. So the brief reconnection couldn't last and everything continues to only further fall apart ever since.

And it all began with this beautiful, heartbreaking and tragic moment in "Jackady" these two will never ever be able to truly come back from again.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #Gabriel Agreste #Chat Noir #Cat Noir #Le Papillion #Jackady #Gorizilla #ml scene analysis #one of my favorite scenes #I love everything about this #ml analysis #Family Agreste tragedy #ml sugar #hawkmoth #the beginning of the end for these two

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unforth · 3 years

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A Non-Definitive and Certainly Incomplete List of the Differences Between the Qianqiu/Thousand Autumns Danmei Novel and the Donghua

@blacktigersprings commented on one of my Thousand Autumn Liveblog posts, asking about the differences between the donghua thus far, compared to the book - they'd seen the 16 episodes, but hadn't read it yet. After I wrote down what I could remember I was like...ya know what, I should just make all this into a post.

This is non-exhaustive. I am a tired person with a bad memory and a lot going on, so I am sure I forgot things. I'm gonna ping @baoshan-sanren since they're the main person I know who is in Thousand Autumns fandom also, and I'm willing to guarantee they will think of things I didn't, and also probably be able to correct me if I mixed anything up. I'll try to edit this based on new info, if I have the time, and I might post it as meta on AO3? I did that with my list of differences between CQL and MDZS and people found it helpful so...yeah. I'll add a link if a do.

Note that all posts like this rely to some extent on interpretation; what I write reflects my interpretation and understanding of events (...to the extent I remember them...) and others may have read/watched the same sequences and reached different conclusions. I've made specific notes where I think I'm raising a point that's more subjective than others.

This contains spoilers for all 16 episodes of the donghua, and for the equivalent parts of the novel. I did my best not to put in novel spoilers for past when the donghua ends, but there are allusions to subsequent events.

Anyway - vaguely in chronological order of when they happen?

(read more)

Overall, the basic premises of the donghua and the novel are pretty different. In the donghua, there are several primary conflicts - the intrusion of the Beimi/Tujue, the competition over access to the Solarity, the competition between different sects' top masters, and the search for that ring that Yan Wushi has. In the novel, these are all things that exist, but they're not the primary plot, and they're all at least somewhat difference. While the novel has multiple plotlines that focus on different things, looking at it as a whole, the main plot is a political one about control of the Empire, and how different sects are pulled into that conflict as a result of how the Emperor relates to Confucian, Daoist, and Buddhist sects. Which tradition each sect follows is much more important and relevant in the novel. The Beimi/Tujue plot is still relevant and involved, but it's just one thread in the political milieu. The Solarity, which has different and long name in the novel that I never remember - it's like, "the complete works of (some master who's name isn't in my brain" - is in six volumes, and it's definitely still important, but it's importance kinda fades as the novel progresses (though it's still a main piece at the point where the donghua leaves off). The ring is basically non-existent in the novel - instead of it being in Yan Wushi's possession, it's in the possession of the woman who's birthday party Shen Qiao goes to (...Madam Su? Might be her name? I'm sorry, I'm not great with names, and I usually rely on fandom wikis but this one is sparse) - in the novel, she was a disciple of Hulugu, and then she stole the ring and returned to the Empire. That other Beimi/Tujue disciple (...Dong something??) takes it back and returns with it to his clan, if I recall correctly, so it can be used to unify those clans to make war against the Empire.

In the donghua, Yan Wushi is just...generally portrayed as pretty nice, and the YanShen vibes start pretty early - there's an early sign of playful flirting from Yan Wushi that actually seems sincere? At least it did to me. As a result, the YanShen vibes feel a lot stronger than they do in the novel at a similar point in the narrative. In the novel...I'd personally say Yan Wushi has zero interest, romantically or sexually, until well after where the donghua left off, and their relationship isn't canon until nearly the very end, and is always left more implied than...outright. I would personally say that in the novel, Shen Qiao has some feels for Yan Wushi pre-Sang Jingxing, but Yan Wushi doesn't reciprocate (except maybe at a deep level he refuses to acknowledge). It's not until he's healing post-almost-dying (as in, during the time immediately after when the donghua leaves off - I'm trying to be vague to avoid giving spoilers to people who haven't read it) that there start to be some real clear signs that Yan Wushi may have caught some feels, and even then it's complicated. They're complicated. They're also complicated. It's part of what I love about them, lol.

In the donghua, the fight between Shen Qiao and Kunye is shown "on screen" instead of only being described afterwards, and it's revealed almost right away that Shen Qiao was poisoned. Also, a lot of people help Kunye and they all fight Shen Qiao together. In the novel, this fight is off-screen. It's strictly a one-on-one battle between Shen Qiao and Kunye, and the reader doesn't learn that Shen Qiao lost due to poisoning until Shen Qiao goes to Mount Xuandu to confront Yu Ai.

In both the donghua and the novel, when Yan Wushi is trying to turn Shen Qiao evil, he sets up a mission for Shen Qiao and Yu Shengyan, The object of this mission is to kill a family that serves the Hehuan Sect. Shen Qiao refuses to participate, and helps them escape. In the donghua, they don't actually escape, and the "they serve Hehuan" thing turns out to be a ruse; they actually serve Yan Wushi. In the novel, they're actually Hehuan spies, and Shen Qiao still helps them, and they actually escape.

(RAPE MENTION TRIGGER WARNING) In the donghua, Chen Gong betrays Shen Qiao when that jerk noble whose name I can't remember right now (and it's not in the wiki, god the wiki is so slim, I wish I had time to help with that) hunts him for sport, and he doesn't want to die. In the novel, Chen Gong betrays Shen Qiao when that same jerk noble, who as a reputation for using pretty boys as sex slaves, tries to kidnap Chen Gong as a sex slave, and Chen Gong is like, "no no you don't want to fuck me, I know someone WAY prettier for you to rape." (The fall out remains the same in both - Shen Qiao beats up the guy, nothing bad happens to him, and he and Chen Gong part ways).

In the donghua, Shen Qiao goes to confront Yu Ai at Mount Xuandu by like. Literally walking up to the front gate. And then all the disciples for some reason get mad that Yan Wushi comes, even though he...also walked up to their front gate. Why do they even have a gate??? In the novel, Shen Qiao uses a super sneaky back way, only known to disciples, and so it actually makes some kind of sense when Yu Ai et al are like SHEN QIAO WHY ARE YOU SHOWING THE EVIL GUY OUR BACK DOOR?

(NOTE this one relies more on subtext and thus is very open to interpretation. What's written here reflects my personal interpretation, and others may disagree). In the donghua, when Yan Wushi hands Shen Qiao over to Sang Jingxing, they have a chat that heavily implies that Yan Wushi is kinda-sorta-not-so-secretly thinking that Shen Qiao could win a fight (and is probably expecting Shen Qiao to do so by using the demonic core that has been implanted in him). Sang Jingxing also says things that indicate that he thinks that Yan Wushi is setting a trap for him. In the novel, while it's never all that clear what Yan Wushi's motivations are, it becomes pretty clear by the point of the Sang Jingxing fight that Yan Wushi was serious when he said he didn't care about Shen Qiao, didn't consider him worthy, and doesn't care what happens to him. He definitely handed over Shen Qiao with every intention of Shen Qiao getting tortured and raped, and had no interest in saving him. Shen Qiao only becomes interesting to Yan Wushi afterwards. Yan Wushi is never only playing one game, so he may have thought that being pushed into a corner would force Shen Qiao to use the demonic core, but it also seemed to me like he genuinely didn't care - he'd gotten bored, and was done playing with the "new toy" that was Shen Qiao.

In the donghua, there is a shot of someone - the clothing is pretty unmistakably Yan Wushi's purple robe of ultimate purpleness - pulling Shen Qiao out of a river after he plunges to his almost-demise in the fight with Sang Jingxing. In the novel, Yan Wushi doesn't pull Shen Qiao out of the water, after Shen Qiao destroys his meridians in the fight against Sang Jingxing. Instead, Shen Qiao collapses in the mountains, where he is found by Shiwu and brought back to the monastery for treatment.

In the donghua, Yan Wushi is fighting the four masters who have it in for him, and before the end of the fight, Shen Qiao arrives and tries to help him; he fights the four masters solo to try to keep Yan Wushi from using his powers and harming himself, and when he's about to lose, Yan Wushi...uses his powers and harms himself. In the novel, Shen Qiao doesn't arrive until after Yan Wushi has been defeated; he finds Yan Wushi almost dead and brings him to a small village nearby, where he stays with a nice girl and her...grandfather, iirc...and tries to keep them safe while nursing Yan Wushi back to health.

In the donghua, it's kinda implied that Shen Qiao goes to rescue Yan Wushi because, like...he likes him? There's not really a reason given, just that he wants to, or maybe to keep the ring from going to the Beimi/Tujue? In the novel it's pretty explicit that Shen Qiao goes to save Yan Wushi because he believes Yan Wushi's position in the Empire is critical to the stability of the world - and he wants the world stable, so that there won't be more refugees, starvation, etc. That he also may like Yan Wushi is the case but is almost incidental; Shen Qiao is focused on doing the most good for the most people, and that means saving Yan Wushi, because Yan Wushi is critical to the Empire, and the Empire is critical to the common people. (this is a major part of the political themes that are more prominent in the book than in the donghua).

I can't actually remember when Bian Yanmei was introduced in the novel? But I was pretty sure it was around when Yan Wushi sends Shen Qiao to that birthday banquet? Anyway, Bian Yanmei isn't in the donghua at all thus far; in the donghua, Yan Wushi's only apparent disciple is Yu Shengyan.

#thousand autumns #meta #or something #unforth rambles #thousand autumns spoilers

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

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Rewatching Shameless and i just watched 6x1 jail scene. Can I request a meta if its not too much trouble? I feel like reading a really good meta about that scene and you're one of the best we've got so.....

It’s never any trouble at all! That’s so sweet to say—thank you so much! <3 Kind of coming to terms with the idea that anyone cares about my opinion over here. You guys are too much!

This scene is actually extremely important to me because it and the response to it were what made me start writing Shameless fanfiction, specifically when I saw that my views regarding Ian’s behavior and how Mickey received it were so vastly different from what I initially read. (Insert shameless plug for “That Milkovich Reputation” here.) Now, I know you’ve told me not to do this before, but based on the controversial position in which this scene resides, I feel the need to present a couple of disclaimers for our audience at large.

I first fell in love with Shameless last March, a couple weeks before quarantine began. I didn’t know what it was prior to that and therefore was not present when Noel left the show, so I didn’t experience the disappointment of a beloved character leaving in a potentially permanent way and didn’t engage in the fandom or see how deeply upset people were by that until after I finished the series. I also don’t subscribe to the theory that there was something going on behind the scenes or any animosity between Noel and the creators, as I have not seen any relevant evidence from reliable sources to support that what happened was anything other than decisions made in pursuit of career goals on both sides. As such, my analysis of this scene has only ever taken the content and context of the story and characters into account. I have no interest in speculating on the motives of people I do not know in writing it or portraying it this way, and even if I did, this scene made perfect sense to me as it was written and performed.

I understand and appreciate that this is not a popular position to take and urge everyone to pass this post by if my position on that matter is offensive or upsetting to you. I do not mean to tell anyone what to think or believe, only to explain how I view this scene and the context in which I do so.

That said, let’s begin.

When Last Seen: Mickey

As in all things, context is important. Prior to the prison scene, the last time we saw Mickey was when Ian broke up with him and Sammi interrupted their heartfelt moment, which basically sums up her character in a nutshell. That was a rough couple of days for Mickey. He saw how devastated Ian was to hear his family talk about him as though he were just like Monica; was distressed in his own right to return for him and discover that he’d left the base with Monica; buried his frustration and sadness by sleeping around with other people, which seemed to exacerbate those emotions because those people weren’t Ian, nor had he and Ian broken up when he did it; and came running when Ian called him, only for Ian to end their relationship.

Mickey is a very sharp man—we know this. He can read people like books and manipulate or intimidate them accordingly. He knew Ian had feelings for him in s1 when he showed up on his doorstep seeking comfort rather than going to any number of other people he trusted. He was well aware that Ian loved him in s3, and that made what he felt he had no choice in doing that much more painful. He heard what Ian said and knew what he was doing in 5x12. Of that, I have never had any doubt. It wasn’t like Ian tried to hide that he didn’t want to break up but thought that that was what would be best. In fact, the way he initially framed it always made me think that one of his highest priorities was not dragging Mickey down with him, especially in the aftermath of being called “destructive” and similar to someone who “put them through hell.” That’s why Mickey’s response wasn’t to call him an asshole or get angry or beg. It was to reassure Ian that he was there for the long haul, that he loved him and wanted to take care of him no matter what that meant—and that they could make that work. All the sentiments Ian had tried to communicate before he got married, Mickey was reciprocating in his own way. Had they not needed to temporarily write Mickey out of the story and Sammi hadn’t shown up right that second, I believe that he wouldn’t have given up so easily. We do have confirmation of that being the case in the prison scene, but we’ll get to that shortly.

When Last Seen: Ian

Ian isn’t a selfish character. We know this, too. However, Ian needed to be selfish by the end of s5. What he had to come to terms with wasn’t something that anyone could fully help him with, much as Mickey desperately wanted to. To Ian, the enemy was within. It was inside him, in his brain, telling him what to do even if that destroyed himself and everything he loved. It’s terrifying. I’m not bipolar, nor do I suffer from any other diagnosed mental illnesses, but I admire and respect everyone who wakes up every morning and tackles these things. They’re heroes every single day. But by the end of s5, Ian doesn’t feel much like a hero. Instead, he feels like the villain, and he’s lost touch with who he even is anymore.

That’s not a healthy mindset to have in a relationship. Relationships require a level of give and take, and that used to be something that Ian and Mickey already struggled with. Ian gave more in s1-3 because he was able to, while Mickey had a limit on what he could openly give because of the environment in which he lived and the manner in which he was raised. In s4-5, those roles were reversed: Mickey was able to give so much more, but Ian was gradually falling apart. Neither of them are at fault for any of those situations. It is what it is, and they have a stronger relationship for it. Ian is a giver, though. He’s always been a giver. To be in a position where he doesn’t feel like he can give anything to Mickey because he doesn’t even know who he is was truly heartbreaking for him, and objectively, he needed to take a step back so that he could focus on himself. He knew it. Based on Mickey’s understanding of Ian’s reasons after watching him deny that he had a problem for so long, I think Mickey knew it too. This hurt both of them—Ian to say it and Mickey to hear it—but they’re not fools and they’re not naïve. In some ways, they know each other better than anyone.

Jimmy said that when you’re on a plane, they tell you to put on your mask before you help anyone else with theirs. Ian needed to put on his mask. His heart can’t keep beating if his lungs don’t work.

Starting Season 6: Mickey

Unsurprisingly, Mickey has settled into prison life just fine. We’ll focus on his interactions with Ian in a bit as that’s the meat of the scene, but there are major implications inherent in his discussion with Svetlana beforehand.

1. Mickey has accepted that this will be his reality for the foreseeable future. What else is he supposed to do? Besides, he’s known for a long time that the likelihood of ending up in prison was pretty high for him, as he alluded to in s2. He was a street thug. He stole from local stores, sold drugs, ran guns, operated a rub ‘n’ tug, created scam companies, and was a generally violent presence in the neighborhood for years. He was in juvie twice during the show, perhaps more beforehand. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that it would have been more surprising if Mickey didn’t get locked up at some point than that he did.

2. Ian has visited Mickey before. We won’t get too deeply into this yet, but he thanks Ian for “coming back.” The other times, he wasn’t even paid to do it. So, as far as Mickey can tell, nothing has changed. Ian is focusing on himself right now, but his love for Mickey hasn’t dulled at all. That’s an encouraging thought, and it certainly puts a smile on Mickey’s face.

3. Ever the opportunist and entrepreneur, Mickey really is doing just fine in prison. He runs a business, if you will, that appears to be quite lucrative already. This isn’t surprising either. Sadly, it’s a bad move. He’s already going to be in prison for somewhere around a decade, give or take a couple of years depending on his behavior. But his behavior isn’t good. He’s hurting people for money, and if he gets caught and brought up on more charges, not only will he serve the full fifteen years, but he could get more time added onto that.

4. Ian is aware of this arrangement. He has to be if he’s been going there with Svetlana, and they weren’t exactly hiding what they were talking about. Ian has been very consistent throughout the series: he’s not as concerned with the moral implications of Mickey’s behavior, just how it could potentially impact their ability to be together. He still cares about Mickey at the start of s6, and Mickey can see it on his face when he won’t say it out loud. (More on that shortly.) Once he’s in a better spot mentally, maybe they would have gotten back together had Mickey been on the outside. I’m of the opinion that they would have based on the context of the situation. It isn’t an option, however. This is Mickey’s reality, and he’s not doing everything he can to get out earlier. If anything, he’s tempting fate on not being released at all. (This, in hindsight, sounds rather similar to the issues they’re dealing with right now in s11.)

So, this is where Mickey stands at the start of the season: a prison hitman who is quite pleased that the man he loves has come to see him again, even if the latter is visibly not in a very healthy mental state.

Starting Season 6: Ian

Ian isn’t in most of 6x01. What we do see of him is typically sad or colored by his frustration, outside Carl’s welcome home party at the end of the episode. Even then, there’s an aura of discomfort that accompanies the family’s knowledge that things have changed. Carl came out of juvie a different person—they’re all different people after s5, and they’re not sure how to handle walking on eggshells around each other.

From the very start of the episode, we see that Ian is still struggling even though he’s had enough time to at least partially adjust to his medication, especially if he’s been on and off of it. It’s so sweet how Fiona gently wakes him up—it’s also a bit different. What happened to banging on the bunk bed and yelling for them to come down for breakfast? After behaving pretty normally with Debbie at the bathroom door, she’s almost handling him with kid gloves, and the punches keep coming when she reminds him that he (1) has to get up for work at a place he despises and (2) needs to remember to take his meds.

The kitchen scene is extremely telling of where Ian is at this point, and it partially shows why he’s somewhat standoffish by the time we reach the prison scene. Most of the family is gone or different. Fiona is repeatedly on him about meds and getting to work on time—Ian, Mister Responsible himself who was out of the house before anybody woke up to get to work on time as a kid. Lip is at college. Debbie is absorbed in her unconfirmed but likely pregnancy. Carl is in juvie, and Liam is playing with the switchblade he found under Carl’s pillow before they take him to pre-K. His entire support system is either gone or treating him like he’s broken. All he has is Fiona “going Fiona” on everyone. It’s clear that this is impacting him because he actually derails the conversation to say that they should go visit Carl the following weekend, which was the position Debbie used to be in when Fiona was in jail. Just like Lip shut her down, Debbie shuts Ian down, and he doesn’t say another word as he drinks his coffee—which he can’t finish because Fiona is once again on him about work, so he trudges out the door to another day of being a busboy with no dreams instead of a soldier who has a future.

Work isn’t much better. Svetlana wants him to go see Mickey when he’s determined to stay away. (We don’t have confirmation, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that he wants to distance himself if Mickey is doing something that will potentially get him into even more trouble, especially given some of his reactions at the prison.) Sean is sending Fiona to nag him about not moving fast enough when the diner isn’t even busy. When Otis is chased down by the cops and slammed against the front window, Sean rather condescendingly tells him to, “take your rag and wipe the blood and snot off the window.” Ian—West Point-aspiring, ambitious, courageous, caring, intelligent, hardworking Ian has been reduced to wiping up someone’s snot by a boss who’s living in his house with a sister that’s treating him like he’s shattered glass and a family that is growing further and further apart these days.

That is the day Ian has had before he even arrives at the prison. Odds are that that is how most of his days have gone for quite some time, minus the blood and snot. …Maybe.

The Prison Scene

Now we come to it: what you actually asked about! It’s taken this long to get here because we can’t possibly interpret this scene effectively without incorporating all of what came before it. Mickey’s position is regrettable, but he knows that Ian still loves him and is at least handling his situation with all the grace and competence that we can expect from him. Ian is a bit of a mess who’s had a bad day and is now faced with the man he loves, who he is telling himself he can’t be with, sitting behind glass—where he’ll be for a good long while.

I’m going to divide this analysis into two sections. For a scene that many prefer to forget, to me, it’s a masterpiece of storytelling.

Physicality

The body language in this scene is remarkable—phenomenally blocked, phenomenally directed, and phenomenally portrayed.

When Mickey first appears, he’s visibly chomping at the bit to get to the visitation area. He’s peering out there while he’s still behind a locked door, and he only diverts his gaze to the guard because he’s waiting for him to unlock it. He’s cool about the whole thing—he’s very cool—but he’s obviously also here for one reason and one reason only. That reason is where his eyes go the moment he sits down at his stall and spots Ian’s coat where the latter is pacing behind Svetlana. Throughout their entire conversation, we see his eyes darting to Ian as he attempts to get the business out of the way so that he can indulge purely in the pleasure. It doesn’t matter to him that Ian is visibly tired and reluctant to be there or that he plays with Yevgeny instead of actively joining their conversation. It’s Ian, and all Mickey has to look at in here is a bunch of fellow thugs he hasn’t loved since he was too young to know what that meant. Damn right, he’s going to shamelessly watch him.

In Ian’s pacing, where we can’t see his face, I find it interesting that he keeps himself angled away from the glass. We see more of his back even though he’s moving side to side rather than away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to be there. In s7, he told Mickey how hard it was to see him behind glass—that wasn’t an excuse. He wasn’t falsely trying to make it sound like he was suffering at their separation just as much as Mickey was. We can see that that’s the case right here in 6x01. Ian has never had a problem sitting still through difficult moments, not even when a potential court martial that would further ruin his life was on the table. But this? He can’t sit down. He can’t face that.

The first time he turns directly towards Mickey’s location is so that Svetlana can hand Yevgeny off to him, and Mickey is visibly loving the view. His expression gets a bit softer, and he ducks his head a little so that he can catch a glimpse of Ian’s face. He follows Ian with his eyes even though Svetlana tries to get his attention. What a blast from the past, right? Ian there with his son, taking care of him while he and Svetlana figure out their business? And just like before, he offers Svetlana all of the attention and input that he deems her worth—next to nothing. Ian’s over there. Ian’s keeping the kid entertained, playing with him and rocking a bit in their seat and leaning over his little shoulder to make sure he’s doing okay—but forget that, Mickey’s eyes are examining him from red hair to beat-up shoes. He only glances back to Svetlana because he has to in order to get the information for their next paycheck. Even then, he’s still back and forth, up and down.

And Ian? He can’t keep pacing. He can’t stay turned away, but he won’t look. He occupies himself more than Yevgeny because now he’s low enough that he won’t just see an orange jumpsuit—he’ll see Mickey, and he’s had a bad enough day with his family making him feel more alone than ever without adding that pain on top of it. (This is the third time Mickey’s been locked up for something directly or indirectly related to Ian. I’m sure it’s not unreasonable to suspect that he also feels somewhat guilty about that, especially when it happened right after he broke it off.)

When Mickey asks if Ian is going to sit back there the whole time and not interact with him, Svetlana turns around and presumably says something to get his attention. Their eyes meet, and Mickey gives him a look that clearly says, “What the fuck, man?” This isn’t the behavior of a man who is heartbroken at their relationship ending or questioning Ian’s love for him. This is the behavior of a man who wants the love of his life to get his shit together enough to come say hi to him—or at least look at him—because he can’t pretend that he doesn’t want to see Mickey as much as Mickey wants to see him. It’s impossible to hide that when Ian has let Mickey see so much of his heart over the years.

Ian’s response is so fascinating because he does meet Mickey’s eyes, and he holds that connection for a moment. Then, reading what Mickey is trying to tell him, he actually turns further away again so that Mickey gets his shoulder. This sets the stage for the rest of Ian’s development from now through s9. He’s doing what Ian does: he’s compartmentalizing. He’s taking the emotions he can’t deal with right now, wrapping them in tissue paper, and neatly stacking them in a box that he’ll put up in the attic where he can pretend they don’t exist. But they do. They really do.

If they didn’t, he wouldn’t have spent their entire conversation trying so hard to focus on literally anything but Mickey, because as we saw in the Hall of Shame flashbacks and as has been obvious since their first fight-turned-fuck, once they look, the battle is lost.

Dialogue

I’m going to be real with you guys: I adore this scene. I’ve watched it more times than I can count even though I haven’t rewatched much of the season in its entirety. There was so much said with so few words, and while I was sad at the end, I was also hopeful. This was an impossible position to be put in on both sides, and I truly believe that this was the best resolution they could get at the time. And yes, it hurt. It was painful. But why was it painful?

Because they’re so visibly, obviously, irrevocably in love.

Mickey’s tone when he tells Svetlana to leave because he wants to talk to Ian isn’t as harsh as it’s been for the rest of their visit. There’s such a disconnect between his words and tone: roughly telling her to scram while actually sounding a bit younger at the idea of speaking directly with Ian. Svetlana could tell. It’s so clear, and her smirk is super knowing. In that moment, we’re seeing the woman who stood in the doorway of what was supposed to be her bedroom and watched him make eyes at this unconscious boy she didn’t really even remember. Not in the tears and realizing she was in big, big trouble if he left her, but in the understanding that his heart isn’t in the body on the other side of the glass—it’s sitting behind her. There are a lot of things I don’t like about Svetlana as a person (as a character, she’s amazing), but since they reached their agreement in s4, she’s never had a derogatory thing to say about the love those two share, and I respect that. It’s actually a bit cute how she takes her time and is almost teasing in giving him what he wants. A bit.

As I have this scene running on repeat so that I don’t miss anything in writing this, I paused to type and ended up on such a meaningful glance at Ian’s face. Svetlana just took Yevgeny from him, and he hasn’t gotten up yet. He’s staring straight at Mickey, and he looks hesitant. Scared, almost. Then he looks up at Svetlana, nods a bit, and reluctantly moves into her spot.

Is it overkill to take this one exchange at a time? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway? Hell to the yes.

1. “Thanks for coming back.”/”Yeah… Svetlana paid me.” – I know that people hate this line and think this is painful. I know that it objectively is painful. I still laugh every time. Not because Ian agreed to come if he was paid. (He’s got medication to afford and no insurance. I can’t begrudge him wanting to make a few extra bucks any way he can.) Not because of the words, but because of what accompanies them. Ian will not look at Mickey—he’s lost so many battles lately, and he can’t lose this one too. Not when he started this one himself. He’s hemming and hawing, not looking up from the countertop and then twisting around to see if Svetlana is still there or anyone else is listening. It’s so stupid, because literally no one cares, but it gives you this sensation that Ian sees himself as being under a microscope the whole time. That’s his life anymore, at home and at work and now here. And Mickey? He doesn’t look terribly broken up about Ian accepting payment in exchange for coming. He gets this expression that I interpreted as, “Seriously? You’re playing it like that?” Then it settles into disappointment that Ian won’t open up or look at him like he normally would—that the glass interferes with the magnetic pull between them. But don’t worry, children. Uncle Mickey has just the thing to fix that: himself.

2. “You look good.”/*awkward silence* – I mean…what do you say to that? I actually felt so bad for Ian there because what must he have looked like these last visits if Mickey is telling him that he looks good now? What kind of mess was he then when he’s still sort of a mess today? And he can’t even return the sentiment because how can he? Mickey is in prison. He’s in a jumpsuit looking at being here so long that he’ll probably have a few grey hairs starting to grow in when he gets out. I don’t know how to respond when people tell me I look good on an average day, so I can only imagine how that must have felt in his position. And still, he won’t do more than glance in Mickey’s direction. Well, if that didn’t work…

3. Mickey chuckles and says he got a new tattoo. Ian’s eyes immediately shoot upwards, and Mickey slouches a little so that he’s in their direct line of sight—to hold them there, because once they look, the battle is lost. And Ian does lose. For a while there, he can’t look away again. First, because Mickey is courting some pretty nasty illnesses with his improper use of needles. Seriously, Mickey, a beautiful gesture but holy crap. Second, Mickey has his name (or a very close approximation to it) tattooed forever right over his heart. Ian had asked if Mickey was going to marry him, and Mickey told him to fuck off, but everything he’s doing points in the opposite direction. He promised sickness and health; now he’s made a permanent mark on his body for everyone to see. Mickey, who wouldn’t be seen in public with him once upon a time, has plastered Ian’s name onto his body. Ian tries so hard not to let that impact him, but it’s over. He’s lost the battle already, and he falls further and further. He’s smiling when he tells Mickey it looks infected, he teases him about the misspelling (which I think says more about how much that tattoo must have hurt than any inability to spell on Mickey’s part—I’d have a typo too), and he laughs at Mickey’s irritation that he messed it up. And it’s this sweet little laugh, not cruel or hurtful or mean. The wonderful thing about humor is that it can be used to cope with difficult emotions. We’ve seen a lot of people on the show start laughing when they’re in a bad place. Ian has been trying so hard to accept his life as it is even during the shitty day he was having. He tried so hard not to let himself fall into the trap of letting his love for Mickey rule his actions in the scene so far. That’s a lot. That’s denying himself to the point where I’m sure it hurts. And so he laughs, because Mickey did this crazy, absurd thing for him and yeah, it came out wrong, but he did it. This was all Ian wanted once upon a time (minus the felony), and now he has it—but he can’t have it. So he laughs. He immediately moves to hide it, but he laughs. He smiles more and has to bend away to pretend that he’s not—and Mickey lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. This is the moment that keeps me from seeing this scene or Ian’s actions as being cruel. They’re both hurting, and this is an awful position to be in. But Ian loves him so much, and Mickey was doing everything he could to make him show it. Not exactly how he saw that going, I’m sure, but he’ll take it.

4. “Been thinking about you.” – Knowing that he lost that one, Ian looks away again. While the end of this scene will hurt for both of them, especially Mickey, think about the pain he must be feeling in that moment simply because he’s not. He’s not hurting. For the first time that day, he feels good. This can’t last. Mickey isn’t coming home with him when time is up. This wonderful emotion that filled him up enough for him to laugh and smile after such a bad day will be gone the second he hangs up that phone. Then he’s going to go home and have Fiona breathing down his neck with nobody else for support. And Mickey will be here—behind glass. He can’t handle that, and he pulls that box out again and starts tearing off the tissue paper. He has to get rid of this feeling. He has to be the one to put it away before it kicks him to the curb. He’s stubborn, and Mickey can see him shutting down but also knows that he’s knocked enough bricks out of Ian’s walls to say something softer, something emotional and closer to the heart. Something he is willing to say where the other inmates can hear, which I don’t think is lost on Ian since he immediately looks up again. He doesn’t look away either, not even when Mickey asks if Ian thinks about him. He glances to the side and opens his mouth a bit, but nothing comes out. Mickey knows the answer.

5. “Gonna wait for me?”/”You’re here for fifteen years.” – There’s this thing Mickey does after he first says that. He chuckles, because he knows that that’s pretty unreasonable to ask and has already predicted Ian’s response. His comment about being out in eight is lighthearted, a serious matter spoken as a joke because…this isn’t juvie anymore. They’re not going to see each other in a few months. This is Mickey’s version of what Ian was just doing, only where Ian tried to withdraw and escape within himself, Mickey is making it more humorous. He’s always done that, make light of pretty serious things to avoid looking at just how messed up it is. But I didn’t get the feeling he was really asking for Ian to wait that long. Instead, I got the feeling that he was testing the waters, seeing if Ian would shut him down—which he didn’t. He offered the bullshit excuse that Mickey tried to kill a member of his family, and Mickey saw through that immediately. I think he knows that he can’t ask Ian to seriously wait and never be with anyone else for fifteen years, or even for eight. I think he knows what he’s saying is a touch absurd. He also knows that Ian’s excuse is extremely absurd, and he doesn’t buy it for a second. It gives him a little courage to do something…well, a bit absurd.

6. “Will you? Wait? Fucking lie if you have to, man. Eight years is a long time.” – I think the important part of this isn’t that Ian says he’ll wait when he doesn’t mean it, which is the popular take. For one thing, I don’t think we can ascribe that level of calculated behavior to Ian in this instance. There are a few things about this part of the scene that mean a lot to me: (1) Ian doesn’t get up and go. He doesn’t even move in that direction. He sits there with the phone after the buzzer sounds and before Mickey tells him to lie. His mouth opens and closes like he’s not sure what to say. Because what can he say? If Mickey serves the maximum, Ian will be in his mid-thirties by the time they can be together. At that point, he was either nearing eighteen or just turned. I still can’t fathom what I’ll be doing in my mid-thirties, and I’m a whole lot older than that. Ian looks just a little terrified here, and that’s because he knows he loves Mickey but has no clue what he’s supposed to do with that in the impossible circumstances they’re operating under. (2) Ian can’t even see himself moving on yet. He’s still trying to figure himself out, not think about a relationship. He has a job he hates, and his family is a different brand of chaos these days. He feels alone, yes, but not in a way that has him openly desperate for a relationship. Based on what he says to Mandy about Caleb, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in a serious relationship at this point or even in a position for more than casual sex anytime in the near future. How can he say that he’ll wait when he doesn’t know where he’ll be whenever Mickey does get out? Maybe he’ll feel better. Maybe he’ll be out of his mind, roaming all over the place like Monica. Maybe he won’t just be standing on that bridge. It’s a huge question, one that has a lot of ramifications no matter what his answer is, and Ian clearly has none. He’s blindsided by that, which Mickey sees. That’s when he gets serious about those eight years, about how absurd their situation really is. That’s perhaps the first and only time in this scene where we can see that, for as successful as he is at navigating prison, his freedom means something to him. His freedom means he wouldn’t have to coax a glance out of Ian—he could kiss his dumb ass and make him stop being stubborn about how much he loves Mickey. But he can’t. He won’t be able to for a long time. And I think that is what really breaks his heart in this scene, not…

7. “Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I’ll wait.” – Did anyone else notice how Ian swallowed hard before he answered? How his voice gets hoarse when he first speaks? I paused again to type, and the video is sitting on his face staring at the counter before the second part of what he says. He looks like he might cry. He looks like his heart is breaking just as much as Mickey’s is, because he can do what he’s asking this time—reassure him with a lie. Not because he doesn’t intend to wait, but because he is buried so far under what life has piled on top of him that he can’t see the light these days, and he doesn’t see waiting or moving on. He just sees the daily struggle of being this shell of a person. Of being without Mickey even if they’re not technically together. (Admittedly, I think he knew they would be if Mickey weren’t in prison at that moment. Ian has no real self-control where he’s concerned. Lip told him as much, and he’s self-aware enough to realize it, hence his behavior in this whole scene.)

When Ian hangs up the phone, he doesn’t get up immediately. He looks at Mickey—really looks at him—and each of them watches the other’s heart shatter. I don’t see it the way a lot of people do, though. On Mickey’s side, I don’t see it as being because Ian lied. I think it’s so much bigger than that.

Ian looks at him when they can’t hear each other anymore, and if he didn’t seem ready to cry before, he looks it now. Why? Because there’s nothing he can do for Mickey besides that. Ian, ever the giver, can’t give him anything. At that point, he couldn’t even help himself. He can’t be what Mickey needs in that moment, just like he couldn’t be what Mickey needed while he was sick, and it kills him. It kills him to know that by the time Mickey does get out, he’ll be older than he can fathom being and has no idea if he’ll even be around that long. It kills him to feel like even if he is, he’ll still have nothing to offer because, in his own words, this is where he lands. And it kills him to have to walk away and leave what he loves most behind glass.

Mickey is watching this. He knows Ian, and as painful as it was to get exactly what he asked for, it’s even more painful for him to see what him being here does to Ian. Where Ian is a giver, Mickey is a fixer. He makes things better. When stuff is broken, he puts it back together. When there’s a problem, he resolves it. Ian was going to leave because he couldn’t be an unacknowledged number three in Mickey’s life anymore? He jumped to solve the problem by coming out. Ian was acting strangely and wouldn’t get out of bed for so long that Mickey realized something was wrong? He immediately went to hunt down Lip, who he knows is closer to Ian than anyone else in his family. Fiona tells him that Ian is sick and needs to be cared for? He jumps in to do it, even to the point where it did more harm than good. Sammi caused a problem that Mickey couldn’t solve? He fixed the problem of her being there at all. But here he sits, behind glass, watching Ian that whole time and knowing that he was trying to maintain some emotional distance—and, because it’s Mickey, knowing why. There’s nothing he can do about this. He can’t fix it. For the first time since s3, Mickey is absolutely helpless to fix a problem. He takes a breath as Ian walks away as though he’s about to say something, but what can he say? What can he do? Nothing. He can do nothing but hang up the phone and weather the storm.

In the end, the heartbreak in this scene isn’t about them hurting each other, from my perspective. It’s not about Ian being callous and cruel or purposely trying to hurt Mickey. They know each other too well for that. They’ve been through too much. To me, this is about two people who love each other more than anything not being able to be what the other needed when they needed them—and that’s a whole lot more painful.

#shameless meta #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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aromantic-enjolras · 3 years

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Les Misérables fic recs

I did a Fic Rec list when I first entered the fandom, centered around ExR fics (because that was what the OP wanted), and I’ve been itching to do another one, less romantic-centered, for a while. So here you go! I hope you can find something cool you didn’t know!

Note: I’m tried to choose a single fic by each author to give you something more concrete, but every single one of these authors has other fics I love.

Anything by fraternite! ( @takethewatch here on tumblr). I haven’t read all their stories yet, but I’m ready to vouch for them. Their platonic stories are amazing, and more or less the main reason I’ve been obsessing over Queerplatonic Triumvirate lately. As recommendations, “Home for Christmas” is a short and sweet fic about Courfeyrac helping Marius with family issues. “L’appel du vide” is a Canon Era platonic Triumvirate fic that will destroy your heart. “Carry On” is a 50K-word fic centering about Feuilly getting to a new town and finding a place for himself.

“Small kindness” by fangirl_squee ( @mariusperkins here on tumblr). Canon Era. Grantaire pays prostitutes to model for him, and they form a bond. Short and beautiful all around.

“Wounds by hearsay”, by buffintruder ( @buffintruder here on tumblr). Grantaire is lithoromantic -a flavour of aromanticism where you do fall in love but you don’t want your feelings returned- and he hears someone commenting that Enjolras loves him back. His anxiety is so well-written, it’s like a punch in the stomach. Happy ending.

“Ghosting”, by Enjoloras ( @enjoloras on tumblr? It makes sense, but there are no links on their Ao3, so if that’s not you, sorry for the tag!). Canon Era. After the Revolution, Marius discovers that Enjolras was trans and had a kid with Grantaire. Cosette and him decide to adopt him. Centers around Marius’ grief and his relationship with the child. So beautiful and heartbreaking. The author has several other trans!Enjolras fics, and they are all amazing.

“The Golden Mean”, by KateAtTheClose (no tumblr to be found). Canon Era. When Grantaire’s alcoholism starts having serious consequences on his health, he is forced to quit cold turkey. Enjolras will have to help him with withdrawal while coming to terms with his feelings for the cynic. It is an ExR fic, but it would lose nothing if it was Gen, the romance is not the focus of the story, and the other Amis are also given a lot of time. Trigger warning for very serious withdrawal symptoms.

“Darkly Devoted”, by OpensUp4Nobody ( @opens-up-4-nobody here on tumblr). Set in the Harry Potter universe, Grantaire is a curse-breaker who gets called to help Enjolras, who is half-Veela and has been hit with a curse that has turned him completely feral. Yes, this is technically an ExR fic, but “will they end up together” will be the last of your worries. Every time you think Grantaire’s position can’t get any worse, it will. Seriously dark fic, but so worth it.

“The Polyphonic Tides of Revolution”, by defractum (nyargles) ( @defractum here on tumblr). Space opera through and through. Enjolras -asexual, agender, not entirely human?- is the heir of the Galactic Empire and he decides to flee his life and bring the Empire down. In his flight he encounters Grantaire and his band of space pirates. Amazing worldbuilding, great characters, gripping storyline. ExR fic.

“And Let Us Speak Truthfully (And Let Us Be Clear)”, by DannyPURO ( @dannypuro on tumblr). Canon Era. Grantaire keeps taking Enjolras out on... dates... but they never amount to anything more than that, and Enjolras is going out of his mind. Very funny.

“You never have to wonder; you never have to ask”, by gamesformay ( @macklesufficient on tumblr). Modern AU. When their uprising didn’t go as planned, Enjolras went to prison for terrorism and Grantaire left Paris for good. Eighteen months later, Marius is getting married and Grantaire needs to go back to Paris for the wedding. He will encounter a newly-out Enjolras, who is not exactly the same person anymore... One of the very few fics I’ve read that incorporate the Barricades to a Modern setting in a meaningful way, and also explores the aftermath of a failed revolution they’ve all survived. Enjolras and Grantaire are adorable while being interesting.

Hope you’ve gotten some enjoyment out of this list! Tell me if you have any other rec’s, and hit me up if you read them and you want to talk about them!

#Les Misérables #text posts #long posts #my posts #fanfiction #Enjolras #Grantaire #Feuilly #Queerplatonic Triunvirate #ships #ExR #recommendations

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Just a little something I wrote earlier while I was out! I might turn this into a mini comic, actually, if my schedule ever clears a little.

Hope you like it, Vy! 💙

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 | re8 songfic

Pairing :: Ethan Winters x Mia Winters

Warnings :: RE8 Ending Spoilers, Death

Song :: I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry

𝑰 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈

A wheeze left my mouth as I struggle to breath, my limbs trembling as I watch my hand turn darker and fastly decaying. I was starting to lose the feeling in my limbs, slowly turning more and more numb by the minute. Every slight move of my arms and fingers were becoming a chore, with a dose of pain with every twitch. My left arm was exploding with pain as I stubbornly try and keep my hold of Rose as steady as I can.

Not yet... Not yet... Rose isn't safe here... I can't...

I fell to my knees as soon as I tried to step away, another wheeze escaping my trembling lips at the pain from my knees. Luckily, I was able to keep my hold of Rose. I wouldn't forgive myself if she gets hurt because of me, I already failed once and I am not keen on ever doing failing her again. I already lost Mia, I'm not losing Rose too!

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈

I slumped on my place, unable to move as I focus all the strength left in my body to keep Rose close to me. My right hand's completely gone, turned nothing but moldy ash on the floor. Mold.. That's what I am, aren't I? A man long dead and decaying, supposedly died 3 years ago and now death has caught with me. My grip on Rose gebtly tighthened. Not yet. Not yet. Rose isn't safe yet. I can't give up yet, my daughter needs me-

"Ethan! Ethan!"

Now that's a voice I never thought will bring comfort to me, not after what happened at my home. Granted that wasn't really Mia like I had foolishly thought but the sting of betrayal, of losing a love one still burns. What he did was still fresh in my mind even after through everything I just went through. There's hope, we can still be saved! We–

I caught sight of my right hand as Chris helps me to stand up and starts limping our way out of the destroyed place. We're moving too slow...

Rose can still be saved...

𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒆𝒘

I am so sorry, Rose...

I looked down as I walk towards the source all this bullshit happening, left hand gently holding the trigger. I can't use it yet, Chris is still nearby with Rose.

Even though I am facing down this beast, I felt happy that Chris didn't bother to convince me to come with him. Felt happy that he chose to run away with Rose and get her to safety as soon as possible.

It was hard, and extremely painful, but I managed to look up and glare at it. I examined it, it was grotesque and disgusting. Letting out one last useless and quiet apology to the two most important people of my life, I pulled the trigger.

I am so sorry, Mia...

𝑰 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

A gasp left my mouth as I hastily sat up, a hand coming up to clutch my chest, a poor attempt to try and calm my fast beating heart. I can feel cold sweat dripping down my forehead as I open my eyes and surveyed where I was. Wasn't I in the ruined village? Where am I? Where's Rose–

"Daddy?"

Startled by the small voice, a yelp left me as I quickly look at the little head poking in from the doorway. Her long blonde hair was messy and her eyes were dazed, like she just woke up. The kid fully stepped inside, tiredly rubbing her eyes as she yawns. She sleepily blinks at me before giving me a bright smile.

It pulled away every bit of fear in my body, making way to relief and immense joy. I opened my arms and laughed as Rose immediately jumped on the bed and crawled straight into my arms.

"Do you want to sleep with us tonight, sweetie?" I asked, to which she answered with a nod and another yawn. I gently placed her on the bed beside me and settled back down with her, my arm coming up to gently cradle her close to my chest. I settled my other arm below my pillow, accidentally disturbing the person sleeping on the other side.

As Mia tiredly opened her eyes, I moved my arm to gently caress her cheek, moving a strand of hair out of her face. Still as beautiful as ever, even when she just woke up. A smile creeped its way back to my face that she returned with a much more sleepy one.

"Go back to sleep, Mia, Rose just wanted to join us tonight" I explained, gesturing to the already slumbering girl between us. She let out a huff, probably would've been a laugh had she not been so tired these days. Was she like this as well back when she was pregnant with Rose? It's been so long, I couldn't recall properly.

She scooted closer to us, well, as close as her 8 months big pregnant stomach would let her. I gently pet her hair, lulling her back to sleep. I smiled one last time, gazing at the two, and soon to be three, most important people of my life. To think that I could've lost all of this if it wasn't for Chris and his team.. I don't know they did it, brought me back to life even after I've been in the explosion that killed that thing. They wouldn't tell me, confidential reasons they say.

I sighed as I get back to my position. It didn't matter how they brought me back, I am here now. With my family, safe and sound. And if someone tries to hurt my family again?

I'll make sure they'll pay for it.

This is my first time writing for this fandom so I hope I didn't butcher the characters!

Tell me what you think, I'd love to hear from you 💙💙

Vy Speaking

Just kidding, she's crying, sobbing like a baby at 9 AM in the morning, having just read the most beautiful story of Ethan, Mia and Rose - and their soon to make its way into the world baby. Hun, you could've given me a heads up, I would've equipped tissues 😭

This is PURE ART and nothing less. I loved everything about it, every single word.

Thank you for giving me, the fandom, and Ethan the ending that we all deserved.

~ XOXO, Vy 💌

#Spotify #submission #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil village #re village #re8 #re ethan winters #ethan winters #ethan #mia winters #mia x ethan #ethan x mia #mithan #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #fanfic #fanfiction

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wildlittlefoxsworld · 4 years

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I couldn't live without you | The Old Guard | Booker x Reader

I couldn't any other pictures of Booker. If someone has some, feel free to send them ne, please ;)

Summary: A routine job, you got hurt by a knife and died from the injury. But it took you too long to wake up and Booker got scared that you wouldn't come back to life. When you finally did Booker is a crying mess and you gonna comfort him. You end up confessing your feelings...

Warnings: angst, reader's death (but comes back to life), fluff, confession of feelings

Author's note: My first story with my sweetheart Booker, my second story in this fandom. Thank you for the likes there ;) I hope you have fun!

The Promise (Nicky and Joe)

***

It was a routine job, nothing special, there was a bank robbery and they were kepting hostages, the bank stuff and a few clients, including three children. Problem was the local police were overstrained and the criminals already killed two of the people. Nicky insisted to take the job, because they would doing the right thing and he has a soft spot for kids.

Andy and her team infiltrated the bank without noticed by the criminals. Booker took the first man with a precise shot down and aimed for another one, when he realized that they were more men than expected. One of them freaked out and fired uncontrolled around him. You were right behind Booker and a man came from your left. You shot three times in his abdomen and he fall to the ground.

Andy and Nile took the freaked out madman down and Nicky and Joe helped the hostages to exit the building without being harmed.

You heard Nile screamed “Clear” from behind you, which meant they catched all evil men. You went with Booker to search for more possible targets.

“Be careful,” Booker whispered and you didn't mind his words. You were always careful and he was always worried. You knew he hated you getting hurt, but it was part of your work.

“Watch out!” you shouted and Booker turned around. He fired his gun, but the man had still enough strenght to throw a knife. It didn't go in Booker's direction, but in yours and a second later the knife stuck out of your chest. It went right in your heart.

“No,” you heard Booker scream agonizingly and you felt two strong arms that catched you before you hit the ground, but then everything went black.

“No, no, no,” he repeated quietly and breathless.

You were dead, of course, your eyes wasn't focus on anything and you stopped breathing at all. Booker grabbed the sheft of the knife and pulled it out with a squishing noise. He searched in pathetic hope for a pulse on your throat, but he couldn't find one.

“What happenend?” Andy shouted when she ran towards Booker and you. She looked at your dead body and groaned. “No one is harmed, but her. Fuck.”

Booker stroked a hair strain out of your face and waited impatiently for you to wake up. Usually it didn't take you long, even if you were the second youngest of the group of immortals.

“Come on, little one, wake up,” Booker begged with a broken voice, but you just stared back with cold eyes.

“We need to leave. Come on,” Andy hustled everyone and Booker scooped you up in his arms.

Nile, Nicky and Joe waited on the back door and Joe frowned when he saw that Booker carried your body.

“What happened?”

“A man throw a knife and killed her,” Andy explained flatly and left the building at first.

“She hasn't healed yet?” Nicky asked confused with a worried expression. But Booker didn't respond and followed Andy outside where two cars waited for them. He went for the car with Andy sitting behind the steering wheel.

Andy watched him laying your body on the back side and he sat down next to you. He bedded your head in his lab and caressed your cheek.

Booker didn't understand why you were still lifeless, it had been minutes since he removed the knife. Carefully he took the collar of your shirt between his fingers and raised the material, the wound was still open. Maybe you were healing from the inside and there was more damage than he could see.

“Nothing?” Andy inquired and Booker shook his head with tears collecting in his eyes.

“She can't be dead, right?” Booker insisted weary.

“No, she is too young,” Andy assured him.

The car ride to the safehouse took half an hour and after seven minutes your chest started rising slightly and a few seconds later you came with a deep inhale back to life.

Your hands searched for something and Booker grabbed your right. “It's okay, Y/N. You're alright, you're safe,” he laughed relieved and tears streamed down his face.

You took a few breaths and inspected your surroundings. “Sebastien,” you whispered and laid your hand on his cheek to wipe the tears with your thumb away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

“I know… it's just…,” he tried to say, but couldn't find words. You frowned meditatively. You never saw Booker crying and you were shocked that you were the cause for his condition.

“You really thought I was dead?” you asked him softly and both of your eyes were locked. “You thought I wouldn't wake up?”

Booker closed his eyes and nodded slowly, a few tears found their way down his cheeks again and he exhaled shakily.

“I can't stand when someone hurt you…,” he whispered only for your ears to hear.

“Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere,” you tried to soothe him and he nestled his cheek against your hand. Booker looked again in your eyes and to your surprise you saw something like deep adoration or fondness in his.

“Come here,” he mumbled and pulled you in a sitting position on his lap and burried his face in the crook of your neck, you felt him taking a deep breath and snuggle you closer.

You were a little bit thrown of your guard, because you weren't used to this kind of affection from Booker, but you wrapped your arms around his trembling shoulders. He was usually reserved and you never got more than a short hugging. But this situation was new to you and you were sure that it was new to him, too.

Andy parked the car in front of your currently safehouse, well, it was an old church in Goussainville. But you hoped that it wouldn't for too long, you didn't like the lack of privacy, even if all of them felt like family to you.

Andy turned around and watched the two of you curiously and still a little worried. “Are you alright?”

“We're fine,” you answered with a slight smile and Andy nodded relieved.

“Do you come inside? Or…,” she asked uncertain and opened the car door.

“Give us a moment.”

She didn't respond and got out of the vehicle. The others waited for you and all of them with a worried expression. Andy told them to gave Booker and you some alone time. You watched them enter the church and sighed heavily.

You began to stroke through Booker's hair and you were glad that he calmed down.

“Are you still with me?” you giggled and tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” he just said and didn't move an inch. You felt comfortable with him in your arms, you had to admit. He was warm and you savoured the feeling for a moment longer. But you knew that the two of you needed to talk.

“Do you want to tell me what… okay, that's stupid, you know… you didn't seem to me like you were a cuddler.”

“I'm sorry, I can let you go if you're uncomfortable. I think I got carried away at some point…,” he apologized and started to move away from you.

“I kinda like it,” you confessed and shoved a hand in his neck to stop him from pulling away. Booker frowned, but nodded slowly in understanding. His hand caressed your back and leaned his forehead against your temple.

“I like it, too.” You felt his warm breath in your face and closed your eyes again.

“Can we do this again sometime?” you asked carefully with hope in your voice. You wished for a long time that the two of you would share moments like this. Since you joined the group a year before you met Nile, you felt attracted to the handsome blonde man. But Booker never showed anything else towards you, he always acted like a friend to you. You were sure he didn't notice your crush on him, but others did, Nicky at first. Nicky tried to encourage you to tell Booker about your feelings, but you were scared that it could destroy your friendship and the dynamic of the group.

“You doesn’t know what you do to me, do you?” Booker observed and you inclined your head.

“What do you mean?”

He surprised you so many times with his actions and words today that you made so confused, you weren't sure if you should believe him or he was simply kidding you.

Booker sighed and looked at you. Your beautiful eyes studied him for an answer. He knew he had to tell you the truth about his feelings. Little did he know that you were feeling the same way.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just…I can’t imagine you aren't here.”

Now you were speechless and starred at him in a dither. “That was very specific,” you determined. You weren't aware that you meant so much to him.

Booker took your face in both hands and you touched his wrist with one hand.

“I don't want lose you. I was so scared… I need and want you by my side, every day, I didn't realize it until now,” he explained and you heard the desperation in his voice. “Is there any chance you feel the same as I do?”

You smiled happily. “I like you for a while now and I'm happy about your words.”

Booker chuckled and stroked your cheeks. “Back in the 19th century I would ask you to marry me, but for now it's enough… well, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You loved his homour and laughed along with him.

“Yes, I want to be your girlfriend,” you declared.

Booker grinned happily like a little boy who got the biggest lollipop ever.

You needn't more words for explanation. The fear and sadness from the past hour were forgotten, you pressed your foreheads together and lingered in peaceful and quietly atmosphere. This moment was owned by the both of you and it marked the beginning of your future as a couple and the growing of a love that will be stronger than everything you expierenced before.

“Is it okay if I'm gonna kiss my girlfriend now?” Booker asked gently and his right hand wandered in your neck. Your eyes flickered to his lips and you were curious if they were as soft as they looked.

You nodded one time, it was enough as an answer for him. Slowly he pulled you towards him, again you felt his warm breath on your skin and then was his mouth pressed softly on yours. He started with placing little kisses from time to time to your lips, but you wanted more.

Your body shivered when your mouths found a pleasant rhythym and you shifted yourself that you stradled his lap.

Your upper body were so pressed to close together that not even a paper would fit between you.

You imagined many time what it would feel like to kiss him, it was marvelous. When his tongue traced your lower lip and asked for entrance you opened your mouth a little. With a grin he licked past your lips and you moaned when he began a playful battle for dominance.

“I could get used to that,” Booker mumbled against your lips and kissed you again with all of his passion for you.

***

What do you think?

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #the old guard booker #booker x reader #sebastien le livre #sebastien le livre x reader #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #nile freeman #the old guard x reader

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larauthorized · 3 years

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Marissa Cooper Analysis

Coop, as Summer calls her. Or Cosmo Girl as Seth refers to her in his comic book. The girl next door whom Ryan first met in that driveway, delivering the most iconic flirtatious pick-up line in history. Yup, we’re going to dive deeper into the one and only Marissa Cooper, the heart of the show, who’s sadly misunderstood and overlooked even in The OC fandom. (Also, because she’s not here to defend herself, but we got you, girl!)

She’s introduced as the rich girl next door, who’s waiting to be picked up by her possibly first, long time boyfriend in the driveway. Later on, we find out that she’s not just the ordinary girl next door. She’s organized and loves planning events (the fashion show was the start of many), while it may seem like she’s only doing it for her mother’s sake, but you can tell that she really enjoys it as it becomes another way of escapism from her dysfunctional family (other than drinking that we’ll get into that later). She does this every season that when she’s kicked off the school even for heroic reasons, that’s when everything starts spiraling out of control that she loses herself.

Now let’s talk about Luke, Marissa’s first, long-time boyfriend who happens to be a water polo guy that Seth might or might not hold hatred for. From the first season, we get to see a glimpse of how her family, well, Julie mostly, is the kind of rich family that forces her to be and stay with Luke just because they “look good on paper”. It reminds me of Blair and Nate from Gossip Girl, another one of Josh Schwartz’s big hit show. However, Marissa doesn’t seem too happy with the rich life that she’s used to, especially when she knows that her father is possibly in deep trouble as cops keep showing up at her door. Enter Ryan. He’s an outsider, someone who’s far different than her, someone that she longed for in years. She’s intrigued, that one is hard to deny. However, when they start talking and conversing in each other as they sneak into the Model Home house, she realizes that they’re not that different, if anything, they’re similar. In a way.. But, when Cotillion comes around, she doesn’t know what to do, as Julie once again, demands that she stays with Luke just because they’re “picture perfect” (doesn’t matter if the guy cheats and whores around behind her back like the asshole he is *sigh*). And if we’re not going to blame Blair Waldorf for letting Nate cheat on her and still choose to be with him, then we’re not going to shame Marissa, either. Yes, we went there. (take that, Bustle and TheTalko!).

Marissa’s addiction. That one is possibly one of her worst traits, that the writers loved toying around with throughout the seasons. She tends to go overboard with this one as we see on the very first episode where she steals a whole bottle of alcohol and is left on the driveway, passed-out. This is where Ryan comes in, carrying her back to the pool house, indirectly claiming as her savior *this goes both ways for each other throughout the series, by the way*. Her alcoholism isn’t just the only thing that occurs whenever her life’s on downward spiral, it’s also shown in her bedroom sometimes. When she’s on a grey area with her life emotionally, she reflects it on her bedroom, that soon leads to be a makeover project by her best friend, Summer. Summer describes this as a reason why she’s so depressed, which psychologically speaking, can be accurate. Messy rooms are sometimes interpreted as one’s life not being as organized as they expect it to be, therefore they tend to think that “if my life is out of control, then what’s the point of keeping my room clean”? This is definitely what happens to Marissa.

Her addiction doesn’t even get too much until Season 3. Even after what happens with Ryan’s brother, we rarely see her taking a drop after, Ryan says and I quote, “You’ve been amazing,” She replies with, “I know what it feels like to have someone believes in you when no one else does.”

Aside from negative coping, she’s not only known for that, if you’re actually looking closely into her character and not just judging it based on the cover. She’s an avid reader, though it’s barely shown, but we see her having her nose buried in a book every once in a while. Now that I think about it, that and many other positive qualities that she has, should have been focused and explored way more. She’s organized and carries planner whenever she needs to, she’s clearly more than the girl who needed saving if only the writers see that. Cause then maybe, people won’t refer to her as a “tragic” character that the writers want us to believe *she is not*.

She’s definitely an introvert - compared to her best friend, Summer, who’s more the life of the party. Sure, she goes to parties and surrounds herself with her so-called “friends”, but you can literally see her drinking alone in the corner while Summer is probably having a lot more fun than she is. It’s clear that she only uses party scene as a way to steal alcohol that she will probably drink later at night as a way of coping. She also seems to be uncomfortable around new people and charges her energy while she’s on her own. This is why when she’s kicked off the school and has to go to a new environment, she doesn’t fit in right away, which leads to her insecurity increasing even higher (something that she also struggles with on a daily basis). The insecurity itself is possibly rooted from maternal issues she has, we see that on the very first episode, Julie is critizing her on how she looks, how she takes the comment on a personal level. After overdosing herself in Tijuana, she’s put on Suicide Watch, and we learn that she also suffers from “possible” ED in the past, masking it something that’s not serious because she was very stressed at the time, but is it though? Now, we never really know further cause that storyline is never explored further, we also don’t know if the writers are taking it seriously or just putting heavy weight on her shoulder for fun. Either way, it really sucks for her character, especially when she had other deep trauma issues that are barely addressed throughout the series.

Her savior complex. Now now now, this one is kind of controversial, excluding the last season where the main focus is “Ryan failed to save her”, helping and saving people are actually her forte, just like Ryan - which is why they probably connect in the first place. People love to call she’s selfish and needs saving all the time, but they’re people, who don’t bother to look deeper and judge all they please, it’s sickening. First, despite how problematic it might seem, she tries to help Oliver (no matter how many times Ryan thinks she doesn’t). She sees herself in Oliver and is scared that he might go down the rabbit hole if she leaves him alone, that’s actually sweet and showcases her nurturing side. The only downside is that every guy she does this to, seems to take it the wrong way and thinks of it as more than a friendly gesture. Cause you know, it was the 2000s, boy/girl friendships aren’t as common as it is now. She even lets Ryan go to help Theresa even though she needs him as well, knowing that he literally has an affair with another girl while they are still kind of together. How she’s trying to make Ryan’s brother feel welcome in the neighborhood, keeping him company, not realizing that Trey might turn out to be the one that truly hurt and destroy her. What makes my blood boil even more is when they call her stupid for trusting Trey, for what, really? For wanting to get to know Ryan’s family because she loves him that much, that she’s willing to go far and beyond? *shudders* Even then, she’s still not thinking of herself when that happens, that her only response when Trey confronts her is “Me?! How about Ryan?” So yeah, I’ll fight anyone who calls her selfish. My ass. The other thing with Johnny is that, she doesn’t try to save him, she actually sees him as a friend that she can vent to about her traumatic events that happen to her in the previous season. Because, for some reason they make Ryan look and seem like a douche this season and not wanting to talk to her though he always is there for her before *probably for angst, right?*. It’s actually stupid how they twist Johnny around and make him in love with her, leaving her yet alone again, but guess that’s what they’re trying to accomplish with her character as she’s left with her addiction only during this entire thing.

Saving guys who don’t even deserve a shred of her kindness aren’t the only thing she’s good at - remember Hailey, Kirsten’s sister, who ends up a stripper that one time and how Marissa and Ryan find her and as he’s about to give up after getting kicked out of a club, she’s still optimistic and comes up with a plan to save her? Yeah, that one true partner in crime right there. She also schemes every now and then, not that that’s ever explored deeply in the show, but it’s there.

Now Volchok, the guy that we all want to punch (Let’s go, Ryan!). She just loses a friend (one she can talk to about traumatic events), deals with s3xual assault and having to shoot someone to save her boyfriend, that’s got to be too much on a teenager girl like her. So no, she doesn’t just do that because she “loves to date bad boys”. There she is, standing and looking around the Model Home house, reconciling of the old times between her and Ryan. She realizes that she wants to be with Ryan and is ready for it too, but she can’t seem to go over to him when the time comes, giving him the mixtape that she makes him. The situation’s reversed, she used to be the rich girl with a mansion, now there she is, barely having her own bedroom, living in a trailer park. To add to that, she’s dealing with traumatic events still, so of course she’s insecure. She thinks she’s not good enough for Ryan and giving in to Volchok is a sign of that. But she wants Ryan to be happy, hence why she chases after Sadie, practically driving the girl into his arms. Poor, poor girl deserves so much better.

Let’s take a breather and talk about her family now. Despite how dysfunctional it might seem on the outside, and how many furniture thrown in the pool, doesn’t erase the fact that she’s a family girl. Jimmy, her father, has a way of coming and going any ways he likes. She even points it out and says, “You know, I wish you’d be like a real dad,” Ouch, that hurt. But it’s true, when it comes to family, she’s looking for a tradition, something stable that she can always cling onto especially when she’s in time of need. This is why when she comes up bringing bagels to the Cohen’s house, she feels warmed and welcomed by the family. It’s the one thing she lacks of in her family. Julie, despite the crazy ways in providing for her, is actually doing a better job at being there for her than Jimmy ever does. Sure, Julie is seen more of a villain in the first season (hell, the woman sleeps with her boyfriend that she lost her virginity to, so if I were her, I’d understand if she wants to, say, take revenge and invite her mom’s sister that Julie strongly hates as part of her master plan), but by the end of Season 3, they really grow stronger as a mother-daughter relationship that we really wish to see more of if given a chance. Despite not showing much for her and only coming for the drama, she truly cares for her sister, Kaitlin. When she’s done moping around after traumatic events, she drives away to where her sister’s boarding school is, all because she wants to help her sister with something. There she is, finally having drama-free, fun episode where we get to see her strolling around in a sexy school girl outfit, but clearly the writers never catch her a break and hate to see her happy for once.

Marissa is always seen as beautiful on the outside, but I don’t think she ever feels it at times. Luke’s cheating, probably makes her feel insecure and her mother sleeping with him helps as well. Ryan is the only person who actually sees her. She’s his heather.

People love pointing out her flaws when it comes to her relationship with darling Ryan, but the truth is, she has always been putting him before anyone else. She saves him multiple times throughout the series, even when he’s hardly there for her in Season 3. When she follows him to Chino, she visits his house and finds out more about him as a child - discovering that he used to be in a play dressed as Snoopy (again, she’s finding more and more about him because she cares and loves him deeply). Then, he goes out there saving his brother, not knowing that who he’s dealing with, she comes just in time with a car, saving him. This happens again when he’s broken up with Lindsay, she finds him in the rain, and comforts him, no talking needed. She shot her rapist to save him by the finale. Even in Season 3, when he’s chasing trouble with Volchok going back to his old ways as she’s miles away from Newport, he seeks for her help again, she is quick to respond and be there for him right away. Something he fails to do during this season, don’t ever tell me that she never thinks of him when that’s not true. She encourages him to talk about his architecture dream when they’re both on a college trip (this is such goals!).

With her neglectful and narcistic parents, emotionally, and Ryan’s who’s more physically, that’s why they click and their relationship works. He doesn’t trust anyone and she doesn’t encourage her bad behavior on him, but they’re both there for each other. Always. She’s his constant, just like he’s hers, she accepts him the way he is because she’s imperfect as well. She sees him as the one thing that she can rely on and that’s really sweet. They both come from dysfunctional family with their own issues in hopes to build one of their own that actually works, at least that’s what we’re all rooting for, right?

Well, at least, in another world, we see Marissa Cooper and Ryan Atwood sailing away on a boat, travelling, and exploring the world as they should be before settling back down to their roots - Model Home House, Newport. It’s what she deserves.

#marissa cooper #ryan atwood #the oc #marissa cooper analysis #character analysis #the oc analysis #ryissa #ryanandmarissa #marissacooper #ryanatwood #theoc #analysis #blog #blogger #bloggerslife #writerslife

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big-oof-bi-goof · 4 years

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So there’s this meme going around with TMA fans, the whole “hello Jon” thing, but it kind of disappoints me. We, as a fandom, are capable of more. We can do better than this. We just need to Hello Jon. Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met Gertrude Robinson that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But Gertrude was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, Gertrude’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of Gertrude Robinsons throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all hose years ago.

Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to Gertrude’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, Jon?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor Helen. I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I… justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective Tonner be assigned to the case when they found Gertrude’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

Jude served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr Crew, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor Peter. He really should have left well enough alone. Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about Martin.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and leads and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonah magnus

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padawanlost · 4 years

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Can I confess something? I know that positivity is “better” than negativity, and people are allowed to have their opinions, but there is something about Pro-Jedi “they did nothing wrong, absolutely no flaws, but were ONLY destroyed by Palpatine” arguments that makes me kind of uncomfortable. Nevermind that half of it is sourced by Disney revisionist canon, it’s just… there is something in the “the intent was good, but this is harmful” “NO ITS 100% GOOD ACTUALLY” that makes my skin crawl. Sorry

I feel you, anon. I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. It worries me how defensive some people are getting. I mean, I love my favorite fictional characters too. I think that’s absolutely normal, and loving a fictional character whether they are the heroes or the villains doesn’t say anything about who we are as people. Admitting we love Anakin or Darth Vader doesn’t immediately make us favorable to torture, war, fascism, murder and corruption.

However, the arguments we use to explain a characters behavior do say something about who we are. And some arguments being used by the star wars fandom are downright scary. You know, there’s a difference between saying ‘I don’t like Padmé because she’s not the type of character I’m usually interested in’ and saying ‘Padmé is useless weak bitch because she died’. One is about you expressing your taste and the other is you showing the world your sexism.

It’s the same with Anakin, Vader and every one fictional character in existence, regardless of fandom. there’s nothing wrong with loving Anakin, but when you start advocating that genocide is a valid option, if you think women belong to men, that torture works and authoritarianism makes the world better, I’m not gonna lie, warning bells do go off in my head.

It’s the same with the Jedi. there’s nothing wrong with loving and supporting them because they were designed to liked by the audience. but once you start advocating that child slavery is not that bad, that war crimes are justified, that indoctrinating children is healthy, that mind controlling people against their will is a kindness, dismemberment is compassion, that child soldiers are a valid option and that the enslavement of poc characters is a necessity…MAYBE the issue here is no longer about fictional characters.

It’s ironic because if an Anakin fan says Anakin was right in slaughtering the tusken raiders, most people – anakin fans included – will be outraged by notion that genocide and mass murder should ever be considered the right solution to any problem. we love Anakin but we also know he made mistakes and what those mistakes were. it’s not about defending him, it’s about acknowledging certain things are simply wrong even if they are done by fictional characters we love.

Weirdly enough, when it comes to the Jedi nothing seems to be wrong enough to some people. everything is justifiable: war crimes, child endangerment, slavery, etc. Nothing seems to be bad enough that they can’t find a way to justify it. And that scares me. because it has become so obvious these issues only matter when the jedi are harmed by them.

The most current example of this is the The Clone Wars series finale. The episode was heavily focused on the massive loss of clones lives that happened during Order 66 and yet some fans were outraged that their white favorites weren’t the main focus of the episode because THEY SUFFERED SO MUCH MORE. It’s the same with fans rapidly turning on Ahsoka, the Martez sisters and even Filoni for so much as hinting they didn’t agree with the Order’s decisions.

You know, it’s not about them defending the Jedi is about how and why they defend them. Saying I don’t care what the jedi did because I love them is fine. Saying I love the Jedi because they never did anything wrong and then writing a long ass essay on why the lives of POC characters don’t matter is not. It sickens me to see people spend a lot of time writing fucking books desperately trying to justify why not helping Kitster, Ahsoka, Barriss or the younglings hunted for sport was the right call at the same they romanticize Obi-wan’s short enslavement as the one of the most tragic things that has ever happening the entire franchise.

Imo, that’s pretty telling. I don’t know if they are racist or just really, really insecure about their own taste but it does makes me wonder about who they are as people. it sounds harsh even to me to say this but the truth is this does goes beyond fiction. this shit has affected people in real life. I mean, every once in a while I see a jedi ‘stan’ telling someone Karen Traviss hated the Jedi and that she was the personification of everything that’s evil about people who criticize the Jedi Order. Look, I don’t know anything about who she is a person but I do know the same Jedi stans spent years sending her death and RAPE threats for being critical of the FICTIONAL CHARACTERS even after she wrote a long letter explaining she didn’t actually hate the Jedi. I don’t know where everyone moral compass is pointing at but *I* was raised to believe that wishing a woman dead and/or raped is NEVER the best answer.

But somehow people who say ‘I love the jedi even if they weren’t perfect’ are being portrayed as the villainous, irrational fans who are ruining everything and attacking everyone. I sleep well at night knowing i never tried to pass actual crimes that harm actual people as good, righteous things just to make fictional characters look better.

It’s not about hating the Jedi the same way that acknowledging Anakin’s crimes is not about hating on Anakin. It’s about recognizing that something that is legally and morally wrong in real life is also wrong in fiction, specially when the fiction world was build as a political parallel of our own. We are not saying war crimes and slavery is wrong because we hate the say, we are saying war crimes and slavery are wrong because THEY ARE WRONG. If our love and support for fictional characters can so easily blind us to real life morality then maybe we should do some soul searching before going to such lengths to justify something considered a heinous crime in both fictional and real world

A few days ago I was trying to get a coworker to start watching Breaking Bad. We were talking about Walter White and why he was such iconic character. he’s clearly not a great guy but that doesn’t mean we don’t love the character. I think that’s the difference some fans have a hard time grasping: the difference between a good character and a good person. I have seen many fans saying WW’s actions were cool, badass, ‘manly’ or whatever but I’ve never seen anyone trying to pass drug trafficking and murder as morally superior choices.

That’s what I’m trying to say. We can love (or hate) fictional characters for whatever reason we want. but how we go about justifying their actions and how we react to those who disagree with our views do say a lot about who we are. I mean, there’s a big difference between saying ‘it was so cool to watch Darth Vader is laughter all those red shirts in Rogue One’ and saying ‘and war crimes are a necessary part of life, Darth Vader was morally justified in slaughter them all and those who disagree with me are haters’.

Taste doesn’t really said anything about who we are but behavior does. Loving or hating a fictional characters doesn’t make us better or worse than anyone. But what we have to say about fictional and how we behave around other fans do say a lot about who we are.

Fandom is a community and like any community nothing and no one is perfect. Pretending ‘everything is awesome’ is choice, of couse, but one i’m not very fond of.

#ask #anon #sw meta #meta: fandom #jedi order #txt

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auxiliarydetective · 3 years

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Writer's Month - Day 10: sunshine | aged up/deaged

Another fandom? Yes. Another OC? Yes. Do I regret this? Yes. Will I apologize. No. It's too late for that. Time for some cringe, because this is based off an anime. Namely One Piece. What you need to know for this story is that my OC (Inari) has an ability that's based off a master-servant relationship. Basically, Inari always has a master. She has to obey their every command and, in return, gets powers related to their personality or own powers and abilities. Her allegiance/her master changes whenever someone defeats her old master or she is saved from death by someone, leading that person to become her new master.

Okay, have fun. Don't die from the cringe.

Inari stretched and let the sun shine down on her face. It was a lovely day in the New World, even if it had been somewhat chaotic. First the volcanic ashes raining down and now this stranger that Luffy had decided to pick up… Hopefully he was at least nice. A sudden crash coming from the kitchen ripped Inari out of her thoughts. “I’ll go check it out”, she called to Franky, who was standing at the helm. She jumped up and sprinted across the ship, to the kitchen, almost bumping into Zoro and Sanji in the doorway. The door and wall segment of Sick Bay had been blasted apart and Luffy was laying on the floor in the rubble, getting up. The stranger had woken up. He stood where the door once had been with his gigantic mechanical arm, standing at double an average person’s height, looking menacing as ever. “Nami-san, go outside”, Sanji told Nami. Nami nodded, visibly happy to get out of there. “Take care of it, please”, she said, then hurried out. “Straw Hat Luffy”, the stranger said menacingly, walking slowly towards Luffy. “Why are you a pirate?” Luffy grinned. “To become the Pirate King”, he said with pride. The stranger’s mechanical arm made an intimidating wind-up sound as he clenched its large fist. “Pirate King… Pirate King?!” Suddenly, he hurled his fist down on Luffy, who was narrowly able to escape. Zoro and Sanji, being the number two and three fighters of the crew, charged at the stranger in defence of their captain. Inari rushed after them, seeing it as her duty, even if her allegiance currently did not lay with any of them. Angrily, the stranger ripped the dinner table out of its place and hurled it away while Luffy was still standing on it, almost sending him flying into the stove. “Get out, everyone!”, Inari called to the rest of the crew. “We’ll handle this!” Just then, Sanji landed the first hit, as evidenced by a loud bang. But the stranger managed to block his attack and throw him away since Sanji’s foot had gotten stuck in one of the parts of his mechanical arm. Luckily, Sanji landed safely and skillfully on his feet. Then, Zoro stormed at the man, drawing his sword. A sharp, metallic clang cut through the air as it clashed against the large metal arm. The stranger blocked the attack, prompting Zoro to jump out of the way of his punch. Now it was Luffy’s time to attack. He managed to get only two punches in before being knocked away by a kick in the stomach. Inari watched closely from cover behind the overturned dinner table, unsure of what to do. “He’s strong”, she gasped. Never since their encounter with Kuma two years ago had she seen someone who had been able to hold their own against all three members of the “Monster Trio” of Luffy, Zoro and Sanji. “Be careful, Inari-san”, Sanji warned her. Quickly, he jumped into an attack from behind. But this backfired horribly on him as he was thrown right back, crashing into the ladder that led up to the balcony. Zoro attempted the same right after, but was also blocked. Then, he charged right at the stranger, only to be grabbed and slammed into the ground, leaving him winded. Inari gasped for air. Zoro usually took many more hits before showing even the slightest sign of damage. Luffy tried taking revenge, but was blocked off. Angrily, Inari threw a jet of water at the stranger’s chest to throw him off balance. This did practically nothing. It was like fighting a fire with a water pistol. But at least it distracted him and gave Zoro the time he needed to get on his feet. “Damn you, Z!”, Luffy yelled before charging into action once again. “Z…”, Inari whispered. The name branded itself into her skull. Steadily, the four of them kept attacking this Z. If this was going to be an endurance battle, so be it! He could not hold up against all of them forever. Suddenly, something large bumped into the ship. Z grinned. “They’re here.” A cold shower ran down Inari’s spine. More attackers? If they were on his level, the other six crew members would not be able to hold even one of them off for long. Inari drew her war fans and charged into close combat like her peers.

Even if her attacks were not leaving a scratch, the least she could do was try. Finally, they got a minute to breathe as they were able to knock Z back together. “Things are getting bad out there as well”, Sanji remarked. Really, there was shouting coming from outside. It did not sound like much, but Inari knew to trust his extensively trained senses. “Let’s end this now, everyone!”, Luffy decided. They charged at Z with new energy, doing the best they could in this small space while also trying not to destroy more things. Suddenly, Inari found herself face to face with Z, his giant mechanical fist slamming down towards her. Just before it could crack open her skull, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and pulled out of danger. She felt the flurry under her skin of her allegiance changing. It may sound hard to believe, but she could feel her powers switching, the symbol on her left arm being warped into a different shape and her hair and eyes changing color. “Are you okay, Inari-san?”, Sanji asked worriedly, setting her down on her feet. “Yeah, I’m fine”, Inari said quickly. She knew that, every time her allegiance changed, it meant she had just narrowly been saved from death. Even though this had happened countless times already, it still gave her shivers every time it happened. She took a deep breath and the fear was out of her system. Behind them, Zoro tumbled across the floor, catching himself after another attack. He cursed and charged forward again. “Go outside and help the others”, Sanji said to Inari. “He’s not an enemy for you.” Inari could already feel her body getting ready to move to the door by itself. That had been an order. She nodded, smiled and sprinted for the door, dodging the splinters that were shooting from the dinner table splintering apart.

When she stepped on deck, she was greeted by a frightening sight. They were surrounded by large warships. On the grass stood a man in a weird ninja-like costume, doing a weird dance. Squiggling and tightening in his rhythm were vines that were squeezing the air out of Usopp, Franky and Brook, even if the latter did not possess lungs in the first place. There was also a woman with blue hair in a cape, presenting purple flames in her hand. But what confused her more was what was further away from her: Robin had shrunk, seeing as her sweater was now too big for her, and looked significantly younger. But Nami had turned into a kid and was completely sunken in her coat. And Chopper… Chopper was tiny. He looked like a tiny plush figure one might win at a price counter, with large eyes, a large head and a small body. “Inari!”, Chopper screamed, his voice even more high-pitched than usual. “You have to defeat her from afar! Don’t come down here!” Inari furrowed her brows and nodded. She took on a combative position, slashing her fans at the strange caped woman. Blades of air rushed at her opponent. Her first strike hit, as did the second and third, drawing the woman closer to the middle of the mast. The strange man continued his dance, aggressively chanting “Mosa! Mosa!” At his commands, vines wound themselves towards Inari, but they fell victim to her bladed fan. However, this made her lose her focus on the woman, who shot a ball of her purple fire at her. Inari was able to catch the ball in a gust of wind and divert it. Suddenly, a loud noise erupted behind her. She whirled around, just in time to be simultaneously hit by a ball of purple fire and hurled away by the shock wave of an explosion that tore apart the entire floor the kitchen was one. She shot backwards through the air and crashed into the mast, losing consciousness. When she landed on the floor beneath, between Sanji and Zoro, who had also been knocked away by the explosion, she had shrunk significantly in size. The jumpsuit that had once been short now almost fit her entire body. Her tattoo covered not only her wrist but almost the entirety of her forearm. During the bombing that followed, Inari did not move an inch. She woke up only hours later in her bed, with a throbbing pain in her head and the body of a six-year-old. Her room looked gigantic now. When she stepped out onto the deck, she collapsed to her knees. Everything was damaged or even fully destroyed. Their beautiful ship… “Oh, Sunny…”, Inari whispered. “What are we going to do now?”

#one piece #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece nami #vinsmoke sanji #usopp #tony chopper #nico robin #franky #soul king brook #one piece oc #fanfiction #writersmonth2021

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the-odd-job · 3 years

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Harem AU Chapter 9 - ...They Just Cut You Down

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Unnamed Characters Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Angst, Rape, Sticky, Deepthroat, Coercion, Mindgames Words: 12932

I had a hell of a lot of fun with this.

( Previous )

“No no no no no. No!” Sideswipe chanted, clutching tight onto Sunstreaker’s plating, well past the point of comfort. His twin’s panicked optics were traveling between the mate—bearer of bad news—and Sunstreaker. “No…”

“It’ll be fine. Sideswipe.” Sideswipe wouldn’t pay him mind, too busy venting too fast. Sunstreaker caught him by the back of his helm, gently, and equally gently forced Sideswipe’s forehelm against his own, staring into his optics.

Trying to will him to believe him. “I’ll be fine.”

“No…” Sideswipe hung onto him, and pits but it hurt to know that everything Megatron had done to Sideswipe had destroyed his brother’s faith in Sunstreaker’s strength… And built his faith in Megatron’s unrivaled wickedness.

Sunstreaker set his jaw. Maybe Sideswipe wasn’t able to withstand it. He’d never blame his brother for that, but maybe it was the case. Maybe Megatron was wholly used to winning and getting his way—used to destroying everyone that fell into his realm.

Well, he’d never met Sunstreaker before all of this. Even if everyone else had failed, Sunstreaker wouldn’t. He’d provide Megatron with a match, he’d be someone who withstood everything the tyrant threw at him.

Megatron wouldn’t break him as he had broken everyone else… As he had broken Sideswipe.

But he would fix Sideswipe too, yet. He could undo this

First, though… Sunstreaker held onto Sideswipe a bit tighter for a moment longer, before he pecked a kiss on his twin’s cheek and then gently pushed him away. Sideswipe fought against that, intent on not letting Sunstreaker go… But this couldn’t be avoided any more than they were able to avoid having Sideswipe taken.

It was only a matter of time, no matter how they fought.

Might as well get it over with. “Sideswipe, please…” Sunstreaker murmured, resolutely getting his brother off of him enough that he could sit up, then stand.

Sideswipe was crying, tears running down the seams on his cheeks. His spark was a mess, all of the hurt of the past orns so fresh. They hadn’t had the time to sort any of that out, and now they wouldn’t get the chance.

Was this all according to Megatron’s plan too? Had to be.

Sideswipe feared the worst, and after how hard he’d been beaten… Not physically, but emotionally and in spirit… It really wasn’t a surprise. Sunstreaker couldn’t fault him.

“Please, Sunny, don’t– Don’t go. I can’t– He’ll– Pits, the things he does,” Sideswipe gasped, looking up at him, and Sunstreaker couldn’t not lean down to touch their helms together, just one more time.

“I can handle it, Sideswipe, I promise,” he said quietly, and when he pulled away, it was with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be okay. No matter what he does.”

Sideswipe still didn’t believe. “Don’t go…” his voice was barely above a whisper, a broken little thing as he caught onto Sunstreaker’s arms, digits gripping tight.

Sunstreaker gently pried himself free. “I have to.” He didn’t want to, he’d never want to, but this was one thing that couldn’t be avoided. One way or another, he’d end up in Megatron’s quarters and at his mercy.

The difference was that he could be dragged there, or he could take what little autonomy he had and walk there on his own two pedes—show Megatron he wasn’t afraid.

Even though he was. He’d always thought of Sideswipe as capable of bouncing back from anything, because so far he had. Nothing had ever gotten to him to this extent, and Sunstreaker… Wasn’t so sure Sideswipe would just bounce back this time.

Megatron had accomplished that. If he could do this to Sideswipe, what did he have in store for Sunstreaker?

It didn’t matter. He’d take it all, and survive it.

It didn’t matter.

“I’ll be back. Hold tight for me, okay?” he asked of Sideswipe with another small but steady smile, before the expression flattened away and he turned to the other mate witnessing the whole thing. “Will you escort me?”

“If you want me to.”

Sunstreaker nodded and walked after the mate—refusing to look back, knowing what he’d see.

Sideswipe, sitting on the couch in the only place they’d found anything even remotely like solace from in here, with his helm clutched in his servos, crying over the inevitability of it all, hurt so badly by the knowledge there was nothing he could do for Sunstreaker.

Any more than Sunstreaker was able to do for him when their positions were reversed.

Sideswipe ached for him and he ached for Sideswipe until their spark felt like it might collapse in on itself, but he, they, had to stay strong and endure. Just until they got out of here.

It wouldn’t be forever, even if it might feel so.

He walked out of the library with his head held high, then through the doors the guards opened for them, all the way through mighty hallways until they came to those doors. “Stay safe,” the mate that had accompanied him so far said as the guards at these doors opened them.

Sunstreaker was pretty sure he knew the routine by now. He alone would go in, because Megatron hadn’t asked for anyone else.

So be it.

He nodded his vague thanks to the mate that then turned around to head back to the harem wing, while Sunstreaker… He cycled a deep ventilation, steadied himself, and walked through the doors into the gloomy hallway beyond. The sound of the doors closing behind him felt like the crack of thunder in the otherwise silent space.

This was it: trapped in Megatron’s wing of the palace until the tyrant deemed he felt like allowing him to leave.

Sunstreaker tried not to think about the things he would need to do to get back out. There was no point in concocting all manner of horror stories in his head; that would earn him absolutely nothing except rampant discouragement—the last thing he needed.

Would Megatron be at the lounge at the back again? Seemed likely. Those doors were open to allow faint light to stream into the hallway, and as Sunstreaker walked onward, he could see that all other doors were closed.

Just one way to go, then.

He had to focus on keeping his back straight, to not let his fear get the better of him, but he was Sunstreaker. He didn’t bow or cower, never had, never would. It had gotten him in trouble before, and he was sure it would get him in trouble now, but it’d be worth it to show Megatron where he could stuff it—and that wasn’t Sunstreaker’s valve or throat.

Like the proud thing he was, he walked into the lounge, pulling his field tight to hide his real feelings. He wouldn’t give Megatron a shred of the satisfaction of knowing he was trembling in spark.

The tyrant was standing to one side of the lounge, his servos clasped behind his back, looking out the windows there. Kaon’s cityscape stretched in all directions outside the thick glass, not so different from the view of the windows of the harem wing. Just displaying a different portion of the black towers of the fortress city.

Sunstreaker stopped just inside the lounge, but that was enough to announce his presence to Megatron. He glanced over his shoulder, red optics calculating as they landed on him. “Swift. I like that.”

Sunstreaker growled. Frag it all, he didn’t want to do anything to please Megatron. Coming so soon was a mistake. He should have dallied, it’s not as if he wouldn’t have been able to walk on his own two pedes even if he’d done that. But would that have told Megatron too much about his reluctance?

Was there any winning?

...If this was setting the tone to their encounter, this… Would not go well.

But no. It’d suck, there was no question about that, but one way or another Sunstreaker intended to come out on top.

Somehow.

He lifted his chin, challenge in the gesture. Megatron’s optics flashed at him, but then he just… Turned away to look back over his city. “Go to the berthroom. We’ll start shortly.”

Start what? His rape? And what, did Megatron seriously expect he’d just do that, because the high and mighty leader ordered it?

No way in pit.

Sunstreaker planted his pedes and made no move, only crossing his arms across his chassis and glaring at the tyrant’s back. Megatron waited a moment, then looked over his shoulder again, but there wasn’t… Displeasure there. Sunstreaker wished there was, but maybe Megatron hadn’t genuinely thought he’d do as he was told and had just tested his resistance.

The door next to him closed on a remote command, blocking his exit back into the hallway. Sunstreaker jumped to the side, away from the sudden motion, then cursed himself for being so spooked by one Primus damned door.

He growled, his glare growing more intense as it returned to Megatron. The tyrant had turned around and was facing him now, staring down at him with that look of weighing him and his actions. His worth.

“Go to the berthroom,” he repeated, but his voice and demeanor remained casual, like he wasn’t taking any of this too seriously. Yet, anyway. No doubt he was confident he’d get his way eventually, but Sunstreaker vowed he’d have to work for it.

“Go frag yourself,” he snarled, ready to move because he thought he had a pretty good idea of where this was going to go. Back to the game of cat and mouse, with him trying to stay one step ahead but Megatron steadily cornering him, as he had every time before.

But the tyrant didn’t make a move at first. “While one of my mates is here? I don’t think so.”

Sunstreaker growled in true offense, his servos balling into fists—but what could he do with his anger? He’d seal his fate if he tried to get close to Megatron, and besides, what damage could he actually cause? “I am not your mate,” he hissed, and even knowing it would be futile, he could barely keep himself from closing the distance between them just to give the tyrant a physical piece of his mind.

Frag him and frag this whole place.

“On the contrary,” Megatron said, frightfully calmly for a mech of his supposed temperament, as little as Sunstreaker had seen him lose control in any shape or form. Megatron was control based on his own personal experiences.

It was hell. “You will accept your new place in life eventually,” the tyrant continued, and now he moved, a steady gait bringing him closer to Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker snarled again, matching Megatron’s movement to keep as much of the distance between them as he could—at the very least, avoid getting within grabbing distance… Avoid being cornered to the point that couldn’t be avoided.

He’d like to think he was getting better at this already. Here’s hoping it’d be enough against Megatron.

“I will provide for you,” Megatron went on to say, and Sunstreaker seethed at the disgusting words he spewed, “in all ways… And all you need to do in return is as you’re told.

“I’d call that a rather generous bargain.”

What the pit was wrong with this mech? “You torture us, rape us, and you expect us to be… What, grateful?” Sunstreaker spat out, shaking, but not from fear. He barely even felt that anymore, anger having taken over. He let his field lash out with that, but it was only for it to get drowned out by Megatron’s—and Megatron’s field was all but empty with how neutral it was, a heavy, tasteless blanket that Sunstreaker couldn’t combat.

Control, and power. That was what Megatron was.

“My mechs fished you and your brother out from the gutters, to bring you to a life of luxury.” What luxury was there in getting raped time and time again? “And this is all on you. I wouldn’t need to do anything against your will if you consented.”

Sunstreaker’s vision blurred with fury, but what could he do? He was vastly outmatched, and maybe he was already fighting a losing battle in trying to keep out of Megatron’s grasp, but pits, he wasn’t going to make this easier for the tyrant just because the things he said made Sunstreaker angry like he’d never been before.

Consent was just another word for give up. It would be achieved by coercion, nothing else, and that would never be true consent. How could anyone honestly agree to interfacing in a situation like this? When they were forcefully put in their place as ones that only lived to obey and serve?

“There’s no consent in a place like this,” Sunstreaker said with heat. “Even if someone says yes after what you put them through… That’s just coercion. You still force them, and don’t you fragging dare think otherwise.”

“I believe many of your fellows would disagree. They rather enjoy my attention.”

“Because you broke them!” This time he yelled. That was what had happened to them, wasn’t it? Megatron had played his games, the same ones he was playing with them now, and he’d succeeded—succeeded in warping those mechs into something unrecognizable, that thought this was somehow acceptable, even desirable.

“I gave them a better life, as I did to you. They saw the value of it eventually.”

Eventually.

His spark felt ready to combust, rage suffocating him, raising his core’s temperature—impotent rage, because there was nothing he could do against Megatron.

That only made him angrier.

Megatron had all but admitted to it. What had he expected? That he’d deny it? He’d already shown he thought this was okay, that he was doing nothing wrong. Why would he deny it if he believed he was fully within his rights? That… What, he was doing them a service by showing them their new place?

Sunstreaker ground his denta together—servos came to his helmet and grasped it, squeezing.

He was going to fucking explode, but for what? “You’re sick,” he growled, barely above a whisper, but knowing Megatron heard him anyway.

“You’ll learn.” That was all Megatron said. So fucking sure of himself and his ability to twist and bend a mech until they didn’t know which way was up.

Like he’d done to Sideswipe.

And Sunstreaker had stopped, overcome by emotion. That was all the time Megatron needed to close in on him, and then massive servos were already wrapping around his forearms. Sunstreaker yanked against the hold at once, his helm snapping up to glower at the tyrant–

But as ever, it was no use.

And he was too angry to even give a damn.

Megatron dragged him, effortlessly, to the berthroom and lifted him onto his berth. Sunstreaker snarled and kicked at him, but the tyrant merel caught his pedes and forced his legs apart, stepping between them.

He wasn’t even given the option to retract his valve cover, not that he would have. Megatron servo slipped between them, his claws hooked into the small seams around the panel, and tore it clean off. Sunstreaker grunted from the discomfort, but that was nothing compared to what followed.

He couldn’t adequately prepare himself for the invasion by Megatron’s spike, even knowing how big it was and what it’d feel like. His back arched off the berth when Megatron released his spike and shoved straight in, pain the only thing his valve registered as he was split open wide—as Megatron rammed into the roof of his valve. Sunstreaker groaned despite himself, but Megatron didn’t seem to care about the visible and audible signs of the abuse his frame endured. All the tyrant did was set up a punishing pace, pulling out, slamming in, over and over.

It was excruciating after the orns of not having it done to him. His frame had had the time to recover, repair itself, return to the state it was supposed to be in—or somewhere close to it, anyway.

It was a good feeling, knowing he wasn’t as ruined as he feared he was, that the things Megatron had done to him earlier hadn’t left permanent signs on him. He could only hope he’d recover from this round too.

The pain, that didn’t matter. It was just a welcome reminder of how much he wasn’t agreeing to this, even if he struggled to ride it out, his vents gasping as the dry, dry walls of his valve were scraped raw by Megatron’s length. He writhed on the berth despite himself, unable to quite smother his frame’s need to get away from the mounting agony.

But his mind relished it.

Of course, Megatron very decidedly didn’t let him go anywhere. Sunstreaker’s wrists were transferred into one of Megatron’s servos, pulled above his helm and pressed against the berth’s surface, while Megatron’s other servo caught him by the hip with enough force to dent, putting a cruel end to his lower end’s twisting and guaranteeing he could thrust in at the angle he pleased.

Sunstreaker panted and shut his optics tight, feeling his frame, then discarding it, shoving all the physical sensations aside with an iron will. Those? Those didn’t matter. He could take the pain. He could handle it.

Megatron would need to do much more than that if he wanted to get to him.

It didn’t look like Megatron was trying to last long, rather he just wanted to get his pleasure of Sunstreaker’s frame quick and dirty. Soon he was already grinding their arrays together and Sunstreaker hissed as he felt a hot burst of transfluid against raw sensors.

He didn’t think it was over, and he was right. He opened his optics as Megatron pulled out, only to flip him around. Megatron climbed onto the berth behind him, and when Sunstreaker tried to lift himself on his hands and knees to have even some hope of moving away… He was allowed to get his knees beneath himself, but Megatron used his superior strength to force his upper body flat on the berth despite the fight his arms tried to put up.

Aft up, and then the tyrant had already thrust back in. Sunstreaker girt his denta, twice so when Megatron caught his servos and again drew them up—but he interlaced their digits in some mock display of a lover’s affection even as he trapped him in place, all but hidden underneath the larger mech’s bulk.

And of course it continued, except this time Megatron’s thrusts were lazy, almost shallow. Like he had all the time in the world to enjoy Sunstreaker’s frame.

It burned. His valve complained.

Not like he could do anything about it.

Then Megatron was again speaking nasty words. “Your brother bent so easily. Will you?”

Sunstreaker growled, jerking against Megatron’s hold, but it only tightened—a warning. “No he didn’t!” Sideswipe had held on for orns before he had given Megatron what he wanted.

That wasn’t easily.

“Oh, but he did.” ...Or was it, by Megatron’s standards? Had someone held out longer in a similar situation? The same situation? “Not even stasis. He wanted to get back to you, didn’t he?”

He did, but that wasn’t for Megatron to know. Sunstreaker’s engine revved. Sideswipe hadn’t chosen stasis, was that the easy part? Was he easy because he hadn’t wanted to be completely helpless? Because he had chosen the faster route out? Or what he’d hoped was the faster route. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but it was the decision he’d made.

“And he was rewarded for doing as he was told, wasn’t he?” Megatron lowered his voice and Sunstreaker could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on him, driving it home how little he could do.

How stuck he was, forced to listen to Megatron’s venom. “Shut up,” Sunstreaker growled, tugging again against the grasp of Megatron’s servos, trying to flatten himself to the berth—but all he earned was, again, the transfer of his wrists into one servo plenty big enough to hold both of them. Megatron’s other arm wormed under his stomach, lifting his hips back up and keeping them there for the tyrant to pump in out, in out.

If nothing else, the transfluid was being spread around, somewhat easing the passage of the spike too big. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” Megatron continued, snapping his hips forward sharply enough to pull a hiss from Sunstreaker. “Relax and let me lead you, and it doesn’t have to hurt.”

Never.

“It doesn’t matter what you’ll do,” Sunstreaker said, his engine revving—anger, so much anger, and barely a trace of fear anymore. “It doesn’t matter what you’ll try, you’ll never get the better of me.”

Megatron wasn’t convinced, no matter the fervor in Sunstreaker’s voice, the belief and trust he had in himself. “We shall see,” was all the tyrant said. Damn him for his arrogance, that ‘I will always get my way’ attitude.

He’d met his match, now, even if it didn’t look like so when Megatron began to pick up his pace little by little, rocking his frame, keeping him pinned, completely at his nonexistent mercy. But Sunstreaker, he might’ve been the weaker one physically—but not in mind or spirit.

He’d get through this, his will unscathed on the other side.

Megatron overloaded again, except this time he pulled out to land his spill on Sunstreaker’s aft and back. He shuddered in disgust at the feel of the warm fluid soiling his plating, but Megatron got off of him.

If he’d thought that would be it for now, though, he was wrong. Sunstreaker got his arms under himself and tried to move away, but Megatron had all the reach and merely snatched him before he got far enough—by the throat. Sunstreaker would have grunted if the hold wasn’t tight enough to put too much pressure on his vocalizer for it to produce more than static. He was yanked upright against Megatron’s chassis until he could feel the thrum of the tyrant’s powerful engine against his back—feel the energy from his spark.

His legs kicked, or tried to, but they were bent too awkwardly for any true motion. Megatron’s other servo caught his hip, the side that he’d already left dents on, and lifted him high enough to drop him down on his damned spike. Sunstreaker would have made some noise from the abrupt bloom of agony as his frame was spread wide on the inside again, but maybe Megatron wanted his quiet, or maybe he just wanted the static, because that was all he got.

Then Megatron began to move him, the servo on his hip barely playing a part in it, most of the work done by the grip on his throat. Lift, drop, and Sunstreaker clawed at the servo holding him by the neck as that was repeated, and repeated, and repeated, straining components that were never, ever meant to bear even a part of his weight.

He didn’t know which one began to hurt more, his valve or his neck, but he felt dizzy from the pain that assaulted him from those two locales. Hurt, so much of it, and it wasn’t there for nothing. True damage was caused by Megatron’s careless actionshow intentionally was he doing this?—strain down below and up here both.

He wanted to scream, out of pain and frustration both, but how could he? Megatron’s hold was unrelenting, and to even avoid having his whole helm torn off his body, Sunstreaker had to grab hold of the arm holding him and lift himself enough that he was bearing his weight on his arms, not his neck.

It eased things, somewhat, although he wondered what Knock Out would find once he was allowed to return to the wing and no doubt fell under the care of the medic. Would he fix the parts on his neck where he decidedly did nothing to the damage of one’s valve?

Maybe he would find out eventually, or maybe Megatron would rather kill him here for his defiance—though he doubted that. Why would Megatron give up like that? Wouldn’t he rather complete the process, or try to, to leave Sunstreaker a hollow shell of himself, there to please his lord and master?

His vocalizer might’ve been out of the game for now, but his engine wasn’t. Sunstreaker growled with it as Megatron fragged him, the tyrant occasionally shoving his hips up as he dropped Sunstreaker down, and the impact to the sensors at the very top and back of his valve was never comfortable.

This time, Megatron took his time. Despite the harsh pace he just lasted and lasted like he had complete control over what should be the frame’s automatic reactions—like he could just deny the pleasure he felt until he pleased to overload.

It was as insane as the rest of this.

And for Sunstreaker… They were excruciating minutes that Megatron hammered into him, his legs spread wide over Megatron’s thighs and the tyrant’s spike never quite leaving his valve, always staying partway in—always keeping him partially open, the entrance of his valve spread even when the rest of his valve wasn’t… And then all of his valve was, again.

He didn’t pray for it to end. He wanted it to end, but Megatron wouldn’t reduce him to begging, not even in the privacy of his own head.

After a length of time that was too long but that he could do nothing about, Megatron let his frame come down one more time, impaling him fully—and then he could feel the charge explode from the tyrant’s frame, transfluid shooting into his valve. Sunstreaker shuddered at the energy that tingled on his own plating. That seemed to be a very nice overload, but even if it was… Megatron recovered alarmingly fast. The blue lights of his release had barely stopped dancing across his plating before he had already shoved Sunstreaker off his lap.

The way he fell onto the berth’s surface was far from graceful, his vocalizer clicking through several resets now that it wasn’t getting crushed by an unforgiving servo—and his neck hurt, it fragging hurt… But nothing more was done to it in the moment. Sunstreaker wanted to rub it, test which areas hurt the most, judge what had suffered most significant damage…

But his arms shook and he wouldn’t have trusted only one of them to hold his weight.

Pain. It shot through his body up and down—moving his helm, or indeed his lower half, that hurt.

It likely wouldn’t have mattered even if he’d managed to gather himself enough to slip away, but Sunstreaker didn’t succeed in even that much before Megatron’s servo was already wrapping around his slim waist and pulling him back.

He growled, now that he could again, and twisted in the tyrant’s hold to break free from it. It only served Megatron’s ends, though, and he was turned over and around until he was laying on his front, Megatron’s crotch uncomfortably close to his face.

He had an idea of how this might go. Sunstreaker tried to push himself up to scoot back, but Megatron grabbed his helm in a hold that was just as tight as the one he’d had on his throat moments before, and it didn’t matter how Sunstreaker growled or how he bit his denta together—Megatron’s thumb cut into his mouth and pried his jaw open like he wasn’t even trying to keep his mouth closed.

And with that out of the way, Megatron only needed to ignore his struggles to escape his grasp—and pits but he tried—and manhandle him until his face was suspended above the damned mech’s damned spike… And what else but force him down on it, keeping Sunstreaker from turning his helm away, slipping the tip of his spike into his mouth, then shoving him down on it all the way.

He didn’t want to cry out, but he did, at least until Megatron’s spike went deep enough to silence his vocalizer with pressure—from the inside this time, instead of due to external reasons.

He wished Megatron would have just kept using his valve. This was a hundred times worse, his throat feeling like it was going to rupture from the size of the thing forced down it. His calipers could do nothing—nothing he could’ve done would have prepared them for Megatron’s girth. They had to give way, violently pushed out of alignment to make room for what Megatron wanted of him—wanted of his throat.

Tears came before he could stop them as Megatron used his grip on his helm to pull him back, then back down for the torture to repeat—but maybe not quite as bad this time. The damage was already done. What more could he do?

What could Sunstreaker do? When his helm was pulled up next until just the tip of Megatron’s spike remained in his oral cavity, he bit down. Except hadn’t that been tried before too, to no avail?

It was no different this time. Megatron moaned and Sunstreaker could only feel the cold horror of trying to fight against a mech that only translated all of his struggling into pleasure, one way or another.

What was his spike even made of? Spikes were supposed to be sensitive, and it looked like Megatron derived pleasure from his, so it couldn’t be a lack of sensors. Was he just that much of a masochist on top of being a sadist?

He didn’t try to bite again, not when Megatron just forced him down despite the clench of his denta. It shouldn’t have been comfortable for him, to feel teeth scraping along his spike with that amount of pressure.

Megatron didn’t give a damn.

He fragged his mouth hard, and Sunstreaker wasn’t sure anyone could survive the pace he set, ramming his spike down his throat until he couldn’t feel anything more than pain, even when Megatron wasn’t bottomed out.

Was that his plan all along, or his punishment for the bite?

Everything hurt. His neck had already hurt, now his throat did too, his valve—ache all over. It was only a marginal comfort that Megatron wasn’t outright breaking his back or something, to really complete the abuse.

This was enough.

And again Megatron took his slagging time with it until Sunstreaker felt he might just lose mind from the agony—and the knowledge he couldn’t escape any of this, at least not in the moment.

That all he could do was endure to the best of his ability and wait for it to stop whenever Megatron wanted it to stop.

His wants, his pain, they were of no consequence.

He congratulated himself for the effort he made when Megatron pushed him down one more time, flush with his crotch, and then he came. Finally. The transfluid pulsing deep into his intake was almost a relief, but only because it held the chance that Megatron had had enough.

He was crying in earnest, but Sunstreaker couldn’t find it in himself to care about that when he had bigger concerns. Like the fact Megatron still held him down, there, with his spike as deep down his fucking throat as it would go, even after the transfluid stopped coming.

Wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let him get up, wouldn’t let it end.

At least he wasn’t moving. That was a small ass comfort, but a comfort nevertheless. He couldn’t ignore the stretch, though, couldn’t ignore how it hurt and continued to hurt, how he couldn’t find, wasn’t allowed to find any alleviation from that.

Throats weren’t designed for this. His valve at least stood a chance.

His mouth never did.

But Megatron just kept him there for what felt like another eternity, until his spike started to depressurize on its own. Slowly but steadily it slipped from Sunstreaker’s intake and returned to its housing, and he thanked no one and nothing in particular for every inch it retreated.

Megatron kept a hold of him, kept him down through the whole process, and only once there was no spike left to reach Sunstreaker’s mouth even with his face flush against Megatron’s array… Then Megatron let go of him. Sunstreaker spent a stunned second where he was before he bolted away, moving out of Megatron’s reach faster than he thought he could.

Megatron made no move to grab him again, though. He barely paid any mind to Sunstreaker, in fact, and was instead using a cloth to clean himself of the worst of the mess their fragging had left on him. Sunstreaker watched the process silently, only panting from the pain all over him, and now he was able to bring a servo to his throat.

It didn’t matter how carefully he rubbed, it still shot red hot pain through his frame, but he froze his expression to keep his grimace from appearing. Megatron wouldn’t get that much out of him.

If the tyrant would’ve even bothered to look. Once he was satisfied with the state of his frame he merely got off the berth, rolling his shoulders once he was standing. “I have work to do,” he said, with barely a glance at Sunstreaker. A clean cloth was tossed onto the berth. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Sunstreaker glared at him, but Megatron ignored that and just… Left. The berthroom door closed behind him, and probably locked too, and there he was. Doing just what he’d done with Sideswipe—leaving him alone in his quarters with very little to do.

Only difference was that he had forced Sunstreaker, physically and wholly, where he’d expected Sideswipe to cooperate on his own.

Why the change? Wouldn’t he have wanted the same from Sunstreaker? Because this, this was nothing that hadn’t happened already, short of being left alone afterwards. Megatron had forcefully raped him several times already.

He could handle it.

Sunstreaker cycled several, deep, deliberate ventilations, trying to bring his emotions back under control. Yeah, it had been horrible. Yeah, he hurt now, and yeah, he was physically damaged. Not badly, but still.

But he’d survived it well enough. It hadn’t really tested his limits, as much as he’d hated the oral in particular.

His throat throbbed with pain just from that one errant thought. Best to… Best to not focus on all the hurts.

He’d be fine. If this was any indication of how all of this was going to go, he’d be just fine.

Sunstreaker crawled over to the cloth Megatron had left for him, and after eyeing it distrustfully he nevertheless began to clean himself. His face first, the mess of tears and oral lubricant there, and then his crotch and aft.

He would have loved to close his valve cover to keep the mess in it from leaking out, but as it happened he was missing that panel entirely. Sunstreaker snarled to himself but pressed the cloth against the sore lips of his valve to dab away even some of the transfluid slowly draining from him. Uncomfortable, to say the least.

But at least it wasn’t painful.

Then… Then he was mostly clean. As clean as he could make himself with just a cloth, anyway.

What next? Just wait there all pretty like for when Megatron felt like returning and most likely fragging him again?

Why didn’t he feel like doing that?

Do what Sideswipe had done, then, and hide under the berth where he couldn’t be reached? It would likely mean he would get no fuel, but… That would only lead to stasis. Not the worst thing ever, right? At least he wouldn’t get raped again.

It would be pretty embarrassing to just hide away like that, completely free of any dignity, but pits, if it would make Megatron’s life harder, who the frag cared about their own dignity?

Decision made, Sunstreaker slipped off the berth and crawled under it instead, like who knew how many had done before him. He tucked his limbs close to himself, and after that there wasn’t anything to do but wait.

Megatron would return eventually. Sunstreaker wondered what his reaction would be.

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

As it turned out, Megatron’s reaction really wasn’t much. When the tyrant entered that evening and didn’t see him right away, the first place he looked was under his berth. Sunstreaker met his optics with a glare, but Megatron did no more than nod at him.

What the pit was with that?

Megatron left him there, without a word or any attempt whatsoever to force or coax him out. What was he getting at? Because Megatron had to have a goal; it was like nothing he did was random. Everything had a purpose—a purpose towards breaking his current target.

He wasn’t doing a very good job of it this time around. Maybe he wasn’t as infallible as he liked to think—maybe he didn’t know how to get what he wanted out of Sunstreaker.

That suited him just fine.

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

As he’d expected, he was offered no fuel. Not even the chance to fuel. Megatron didn’t try to tempt him out at any point, not even as the orns ticked on and his fuel levels hit critical levels.

That was when Sideswipe had caved and taken the fuel offered to him. Sunstreaker wondered what would have happened if he’d crawled out from under the berth now, and asked for fuel before his frame went into stasis. He would have expected Megatron to use the same tactic, anyway, of letting him starve to the point where he was desperate for fuel, then bring some in his view and offer it in return for whatever it was he might want from him.

But no. Megatron didn’t even look under the berth after that first time. Just… Left him there. Like he didn’t care about his presence at all. Megatron went about his business around him, working at his desk, recharging.

No acknowledgment Sunstreaker was even there.

It wouldn’t have changed anything even if he had paid him some mind, though. Sideswipe might have caved, but Megatron had called Sideswipe easy, maybe because he’d done that.

Sunstreaker was sworn to not do the same. Whatever would happen when he chose stasis… Then that would happen. He wouldn’t bend the knee to hunger if it meant Megatron would find him a harder victim to handle than what he’d found his brother.

He made good on his word to himself. One by one his frame began to shut down non-essential systems as his fuel levels dropped below acceptable levels.

His sensors were some of the last things to go, his vision blinking out mere minutes before his frame forced complete shutdown–

And everything stopped mattering.

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

Things came back online in reverse order. His sensors swept out first, giving him a view of the situation he was going to online to before other systems even caught up, conscious thought slow to boot up.

Someone had fueled him. Not very much—he was barely above functional levels—but it was enough for his frame to bring him back up.

Megatron was present. Sitting next to him, in fact. On a berth—the berth, most likely. Sunstreaker became aware of that much before anything else, because that was danger. He waited painful seconds for his frame to grant him enough physical control that he could move away.

His optics shot open, at once glancing to his side. Megatron was looking at him, his expression unreadable, but that was all the time it took for Sunstreaker’s engines to roar into gear and he tried to jerk away from the larger mech.

Tried, because Megatron caught him by his arm before he got out of reach, and pulled his still reeling frame right back to his side.

Sunstreaker’s vents were heaving, and not from exertion or heat. He felt more anger than fear, which was a good realization to come to—but the next detail he became aware of wasn’t as pleasant.

There were dried fluids on his frame. No, some were dried, others were more fresh. And his valve… It was wet, and something was leaking out.

He checked his chronometer. He should have been out long enough that the results of their last bout shouldn’t be leaking anywhere anymore.

Which meant that their last bout was only the last one he had been aware of. Megatron had fragged him while he was out of it, too. Or hell, maybe he’d called company to help him with the task. He wouldn’t know.

“What the slag did you do?” Sunstreaker tried to growl, but it came out more as a breathless whisper. His vocalizer didn’t feel right. Neither did his throat, for that matter. His jaw ached and he could taste transfluid at the back of his mouth.

Had Megatron used his intake too while he was out? All of his frame?

While it was slack and defenseless, dead for all intents and purposes, aside from the presence of a spark signature?

And Megatron had fragged what nearly constituted as a corpse. No, it was worse than that. A corpse wouldn’t give a fuck if it was used like that. It’d just get recycled for parts anyway.

But he, a mech in stasis, would come back to himself eventually, once the reason for the stasis was removed.

Come back to himself to find that his frame had been used without his permission when he couldn’t even try to do or say anything about it.

Sunstreaker stared at the ceiling and tried not to let those thoughts get to him as badly as they were threatening to.

He didn’t think he was very successful in that.

“I think that’s obvious,” Megatron responded to him. This time Sunstreaker managed a snarl, sitting up and tugging against the hold on his arm. For naught, of course.

When would he ever do anything against Megatron and have it not be for naught?

“You raped me while I was in stasis!” He was finding his volume, and his motor functions. Sunstreaker stopped fighting against the grip on him to lunge at the larger mech instead—for what, he wasn’t even sure, but it hardly mattered. Megatron caught him by the throat before he ever reached the tyrant, and then just… Held him. Not tight enough to damage him, not so high it would have strained his neck any further.

There was just the agony of already damaged parts being put through something too similar to what had damaged them in the first place.

Desperation was threatening to take over, that sense of there’s nothing I can do that he wanted to deny with all his might. Was there anything Megatron wouldn’t do? To him, to others? Rape them while they were cognizant of it, either forcefully or through coercion… And then, if they tried to escape it all, he’d just fuck them while they were out of it.

Because, “I don’t need you aware,” Megatron said, and his voice was cold when he said—cold in a way Sunstreaker hadn’t heard before.

It sent a shiver down his spine. “You belong to me, and that is all you need to concern yourself with.”

There. He said it. He thought he had the rights to do this, because they were his—frame, spark, and mind, right?

“Slag you,” Sunstreaker growled, but there wasn’t much strength behind it. Where could he gather strength from in a situation like this? When no part of him was off limits, conscious or not?

When nothing was his?

When he had no rights to himself?

His engine stuttered, but Sunstreaker didn’t let go of his glare, or his anger.

“Kiss me.”

...And his engine stalled entirely.

“What?”

“Kiss me,” Megatron repeated, staring at him with that… Expression that Sunstreaker couldn’t name for the life of him.

“No!” he said, trying to shake his helm despite the servo wrapped around his throat. “Pit no.” Why did Megatron ever think he would do that?

He didn’t have to wait for an answer to that for long. “Do you want more fuel?” Megatron asked, the image of ‘it’s all the same to me’. No doubt it was. What did he care if Sunstreaker was or wasn’t in stasis? Clearly that didn’t put a stop to what he would do with his frame.

Was this it? The thing he would need to do to get fueled, just like Sideswipe had been ordered to do something to earn his fuel?

Sunstreaker snarled, disbelief morphing back into anger. He did want more fuel. He didn’t want to end up in stasis again for Megatron to do Primus knew what to his frame.

“Go kill yourself,” he growled insted, jerking against Megatron’s hold. It didn’t budge, predictably.

He wanted fuel, he needed fuel, but he wouldn’t do that to get it.

“You will lose that attitude eventually,” Megatron said without offense, and evenly, just like he would’ve stated any fact. Like it was a fact, just a matter of time until Sunstreaker caved—not an if, only a when.

He wouldn’t let it be that. He’d find another way.

He didn’t know how.

There had to be a way.

But that turned out to be a concern for future him. In the present Megatron turned to press him into the berth, still by his throat. His other servo caught his hip once more, and without preamble he had released his spike and sunk into Sunstreaker’s bared valve.

It didn’t hurt as much as it should have. He wanted it to hurt, to remember this was against his will—to know his frame was still in the state it should be. As tight as it should be.

His.

But what Megatron had done... How many times he’d done it, his frame couldn’t take it. His calipers didn’t complain as much anymore, and there was enough transfluid to make the slide of Megatron’s spike considerably smoother.

If his frame had recovered during the time Megatron had held Sideswipe and left Sunstreaker alone… All of that was being undone with every harsh stroke of Megatron’s spike that should have hurt far worse than it did. The little tendrils of pleasure that curled in his valve made him want to claw the whole damn thing out for threatening to turn his frame against himself.

As if that hadn’t already been done before.

He didn’t know if Megatron noticed he was fighting back arousal, and he didn’t know if Megatron cared even if he noticed, but the tyrant was rather quick with this round. Oh, he took all the time that suited him, but it wasn’t as long as Sunstreaker already knew it could be.

Then he came, on Sunstreaker’s stomach this time, earning him a vicious growl.

Vicious, useless growl that the tyrant completely ignored. Megatron wiped his spike clean, and without another word, he left. Again.

Leaving Sunstreaker alone. Again.

Except this time he didn’t get a cloth to clean himself with.

The silence Megatron left behind was deafening, interrupted only by the sounds of Sunstreaker’s own frame. It left far too much room for his thoughts to be painfully loud.

The now what was the loudest. Sunstreaker cautiously pushed himself to sitting and… Left himself there. Transfluid was seeping from his valve all over again and the feel of even more of it drying on his plating, right along with everything that had already dried on it… Ugh, he was going to go fucking nuts.

And he didn’t know what now.

How could he win? Aware or in stasis, he’d still get raped, and Megatron had shown that with him, he didn’t care one whit about his cooperation. It was different from Sideswipe’s treatment.

Except… The demand for a fragging kiss. If that hadn’t come from the left field, Sunstreaker didn’t know what had. Megatron wanted him to kiss him, out of his own volition… To earn fuel.

What would happen if he refused? He had a pretty good idea.

Most likely Megatron would just let him go back in stasis and rape his unconscoius frame all over again–

The thought made him shudder. Why was it so much worse? It should’ve been preferable; he couldn’t suffer during it if he wasn’t even awake.

But it wasn’t preferable. It fragging wasn’t. He would have no idea what Megatron did to his body, could only guess when—if—he was brought out of stasis again. He didn’t exactly want to ask Megatron about the details, even if that would’ve been knowledge.

Maybe he was better off not knowing.

It was bad enough that he could surmise Megatron had already made use of every hole he had. What did it even feel like to frag a frame that gave no feedback in return?

He wanted to purge. Stop thinking about it—he couldn’t afford to lose any of the fuel in him.

But the thought was fragging disgusting, knowing his frame would have been nothing but a lax doll, only moving because Megatron was moving it—slack limbs that could be moved every which way with no resistance.

Sunstreaker buried his face into his servos, and he didn’t even care that he was transferring the mess on his faceplates onto his palms. What did it matter, at this point?

What could he do? How could he keep all of this from happening?

Was there anything?

One thing was for sure: he was not going to kiss Megatron, even if it meant… Even if it meant going back into stasis.

...Was that really preferable? Knowing Megatron would most likely just use him again?

But how, how would he be able to kiss him? The reason they were torn from their home, their life, their rapist, their tormentor… That mech wanted Sunstreaker to kiss him.

After everything he’d done to them.

He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He had no good options, only bad and worse—and he wasn’t sure which one was the worse.

This was exactly like how Sideswipe had felt, wasn’t it? Cornered, with a very limited array of things to choose from—so few ways out.

But the thought of kissing him… That was even more unbearable. He couldn’t do it.

Sunstreaker dropped off the edge of the berth and crouched on the floor to return to his place under the berth, for all the good that had done him last time.

Stasis it was.

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

He woke up again, this time in Megatron’s fucking lap with the tyrant’s spike nudging against his lower back. “Awake?” his rapist asked, and when Sunstreaker glared in response he was promptly lifted enough for Megatron to nudge his fragging spike to the entrance of his valve–

And lower him down onto it.

It didn’t hurt. Fraggit, but it didn’t hurt. What had Megatron done to his frame this time? Even when he tilted them forward until Sunstreaker had to catch himself with his arms, Megatron’s weight pressing on his back, and Megatron started to move…

It didn’t hurt.

Quite the opposite.

Sunstreaker had to bite back a moan as his valve responded to Megatron’s thrusts with happy zaps of pleasure. The sensors were still raw, and there was just that little edge of discomfort, but it was drowned out by everything else, easily ignored—too easily, if you asked Sunstreaker. His vents blasted a round of warmed air as Megatron fragged him leisurely, like he was in no rush.

Like he wanted to take the time to really make Sunstreaker feel this.

And pits, but it was working. His frame was responding, heating, charge slowly but surely building as the pleasure mounted, building atop itself.

His valve started to lubricate, the pass of Megatron’s spike turned even smoother.

Even more pleasant.

Sunstreaker squeezed his optics shut and tried to ignore his frame, the physical—the things he didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to enjoy Megatron’s abuse, even on a strictly physical level, and his mind raged against it.

It was no use. Megatron wrapped one of his arms around his middle again, trapping him in place, locking them together—and he kept moving his damned spike in and out, lighting his sensors up in all kinds of pleasant ways until Sunstreaker was panting, his valve rippling around the invading spike—and that hurt a little bit, the calipers still in the middle of numbing to the damage they’d suffered.

It didn’t hurt nowhere near enough to quell the rise of charge, though. Megatron rumbled against his back and the vibrations from his engine did even more things to him. Sunstreaker ground his denta together as his valve spasmed again. Megatron’s engine revved this time too and he began to pick up his pace.

Sunstreaker couldn’t hold back his moan as Megatron began to slam into him. Even the edge of pain from that registered as pleasure, and his valve tightened further, his frame on an indomitable march towards completion. Megatron bore down on him harder, forced his front half flat on the berth, kept his aft up—kept fucking him until Sunstreaker could barely think past the ecstasy in his lines. Hard, fast thrusts rocked his frame–

Until he crested. He cut off his vocalizer before it could make a sound as charge crackled along his plating and his valve clamped down on Megatron’s spike—as every cable and piston in his body tightened from the strength of his release.

And Megatron… Megatron growled against his back, thrust two more times, then came inside him, likely coaxed over the edge by Sunstreaker’s own frame.

Sunstreaker was next to strutless when the charge in his systems finished dissipating, his vents heaving with very little effect when Megatron’s hot frame covered his smaller one so thoroughly. He was shivering just so, hatred in his spark—so much hatred.

But he couldn’t unleash it on the mech that was its target. He had tried already, several times. It was no good. It’d earn him nothing.

Should he keep trying anyway?

...He could think about that again once he had a bit more strength in his limbs.

Megatron pulled out when he felt like it, moved away when he felt like it—but not so far he couldn’t have caught Sunstreaker if he’d tried to go somewhere.

He didn’t try. Where could he go, anyway? Under the berth again? Into the cold and the dark of it?

Megatron would only let him fall into stasis again, and this would repeat all over again.

Maybe he’d do it anyway, once it looked like Megatron wasn’t prepared to grab him at a moment’s notice.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t try to go anywhere, though, Megatron still took a hold of him, pulling him across the berth’s surface to him. Sunstreaker tried to pull away just once, but the servos on his hips tightened in clear indication that Megatron wasn’t about to let that happen.

Instead he could only wait tensely for whatever Megatron had in store for him this time. Another round right after? Megatron sure had the stamina for it.

But no. Megatron grabbed his aft, smoothed his servos across it, then stuck his thumbs into his valve and spread the lips wide—wide enough that Sunstreaker could feel it.

But his valve gave without too much resistance, stretching under Megatron’s test.

“Get up off the berth,” Megatron said suddenly, removing his servos, completely, until there was nothing that prevented Sunstreaker from moving away.

And move away he did, quickly scooting out of reach, glaring at the tyrant with abject distrust. “Why?”

“I want to see you walk,” Megatron answered his question easily, sounding honest.

Was that really it?

Unless…

Sunstreaker got a sinking feeling in his tanks and swallowed hard, but there was only one way to find out if that was the case, wasn’t there? So, more for the sake of his own anxious curiosity than anything else, Sunstreaker went to the berth’s edge and dropped down, his legs a bit unsteady… But after a moment’s uncertainty, they did carry his weight. Maybe a bit shakily, but did so anyway.

“Walk to the wall and back,” Megatron instructed him. Sunstreaker glared at him again, but he wanted to try this out.

So he walked.

And there it was. The sway.

Megatron’s engine revved with pleasure and arousal even as Sunstreaker’s stuttered. His step faltered, and all of a sudden, he very much did not want to walk. Now or ever.

It was a stupid, unreasonable reaction, but he didn’t want to feel the way his hips moved now. What had Knock Out said? Hips spread apart by Megatron’s fragging spike?

It wasn’t just on the inside anymore. It wasn’t just when Megatron invaded his frame that he could feel how it was changing, violently reshaped to accommodate the tyrant’s spike in all ways.

Now it was on the outside too, there for all the world to see.

If the world ever saw him. If he wasn’t locked up in this fragging palace.

He didn’t take another step. Couldn’t take another step. His servos balled into fists on his sides, his helm hung.

Anger. He could barely feel anything else anymore.

...Anger and despair.

Helplessness.

“Now now, don’t be like that,” Megatron spoke up. Sunstreaker could hear him get up, then feel the tremors of his steps as he came closer. “This is a good thing.”

No it wasn’t!

Megatron’s servo landed on his shoulder, gentle. Sunstreaker growled and tried to shrug it away, but it only tightened until there was no longer anything soft about it.

‘Kindness’, as long as he obeyed.

Force, if he didn’t.

He knew which one he’d rather have.

Megatron crouched in front of him, grabbing his chin with his other servo and tilting his helm until he was forced to meet the tyrant’s gaze. Cool, with not a trace of genuine care in it.

Megatron only cared about how he could get what he wanted. Everything he did was a part of that, each action carefully calculated. This, too.

“Go to the fucking smelters,” Sunstreaker whispered, his engine growling, his field alive with his anger, but Megatron’s again, completely overpowered it. Swept it aside, like it was nothing.

Like what Sunstreaker felt was nothing.

Because it was. It was nothing.

He tried to swat the servo on his chin away, but Megatron’s grip only tightened until that was not going to happen. Megatron stared at him for a moment, silent. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure what he saw, or what he was looking for, but the tension in him built with every second Megatron spent not hurting him.

“Kiss me,” he then said, again.

And Sunstreaker said, “No,” again.

Megatron took that for an answer, released him, got up—went to his berth, laid down.

Powered down to recharge.

And Sunstreaker was left without fuel, the warning about his empty tanks blinking away on his HUD.

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

He fell victim to low fuel levels, like he had two times already.

Like those times, he came back around to Megatron’s proximity, except this time… Was even worse than the last times.

He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Megatron was between his legs, looking down at him–

And his spike was buried deep in his valve.

Sunstreaker couldn’t muster the strength to try to move away, doubtful as it was that would have worked anyway. There was more transfluid on his frame… His throat felt raw.

It wasn’t hard to see Megatron had taken his pleasure out of him again, before he’d deigned to refuel him. Again his fuel levels were just barely above functioning levels. He would run out of the meager reserves soon, and then this would repeat…

For how long?

How much longer would Megatron keep him? He was already losing a lot of time due to the straight up orns he’d spent in stasis, as Megatron’s personal little sex doll. Megatron wasn’t losing anything here. No matter how many times Sunstreaker denied him… He would take his enjoyment, one way or another.

As he did now too. Megatron brushed his cheek and Sunstreaker flinched, but that was all there was before Megatron began to rock in and out of his body, like he had for who knew how many times already.

His servos continued to travel along his frame, claws lightly tracing the seams of his armor, toying around in the splatters of transfluid left on him…

He didn’t want to enjoy it. He didn’t, but between the touches and his valve, his charge was rising. Again. Unwanted, unneeded, but the arousal came whether he liked it or not. His core temperature rose, he began to vent more heavily.

Megatron flipped him over and pulled his hips to his, one servo keeping a hold of him there, keeping him in place… And the other continued to stroke along his body, finding a special place in the brand on his shoulder. Sunstreaker could feel him tracing the shape burned on him, the one he wanted to forget all about—he didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to be reminded of it or of the reason for it, but it was everywhere in the harem wing. Everyone short of Knock Out had it—a mark of their standing, he supposed.

Of their place. Their lot in life.

This. This was what they were here for. Megatron’s spike filled his valve with every stroke inward, vacated it partway when he pulled back… And Sunstreaker took it, because he was given no other options. Megatron held him there until Sunstreaker was tensing from the overload that overtook him—that Megatron just thrust through, lengthening it where Sunstreaker didn’t want it to exist in the first place.

Only once he was lax from it did Megatron pull out and overload himself, his spill landing on Sunstreaker’s back to join the mess already covering him.

Learn to spread their legs for him. That was what Megatron had said he’d teach them to do.

He was one hell of a teacher.

Megatron let him have a moment, sitting to the side, and… Bringing out a cube. It glowed brightly, a telltale sign of high charge.

The tyrant didn’t even glance his way as he began to drink from it, slowly, drawing out the process.

Forcing Sunstreaker to watch, hunger echoing in his empty tanks.

He knew what he had to do to get some of that for himself, didn’t he?

Kiss Megatron.

Swallow his pride and kiss his rapist.

Who the fuck did that?

Pits, he didn’t want to even entertain the idea. “What do I need to do to get fuel?” Sunstreaker asked, a little more quietly than he would have liked.

He didn’t push himself up, not even when Megatron’s optics moved to him.

“You already know,” came the answer.

He did. He just…

Sunstreaker closed his optics. “Is there any other way?”

The answer to that was just as he expected, too. “No.”

At least he tried.

Sunstreaker turned his helm and buried his face against the berth. What could he do? He didn’t want to go into stasis again, knowing Megatron would only abuse his frame more. He would be completely at his mercy—as if he wasn’t already—with no chance whatsoever to try to change the course of things.

Nothing he could do to defend himself.

It was stupid. He couldn’t do those things even when he was awake and aware.

But it still felt different.

His engine hitched and he could feel Megatron moving. He’d never bothered to close his legs, and the tyrant situated himself between them again, hiking his hips up before driving his spike home. Sunstreaker grunted as tired sensors fired up, flaring pleasure from his defiled valve. Misshapen to fit Megatron’s spike perfectly.

Again Megatron ran his servos along his back, their motion almost soothing—like he was trying to ease away all of the negative emotions overtaking Sunstreaker. Still anger, but not as much of it as he would have liked. Despair. That was the dominant one right now.

Despair over how powerless he was.

Despair over how few options he had.

Despair over Megatron’s inevitability.

‘Resistance is futile.’ Hadn’t Starscream said that?

Had he learned it through personal experience? Had he had a will of his own once too, before all of this? Was he something more than the apparent head of Megatron’s harem, once upon a time?

He didn’t want to become that, a subservient little thing that did as Megatron told without hesitation.

But… What could he do in the moment, except be just that? He wanted out of here sooner rather than later. He needed to fuel.

He didn’t want to end up in stasis again.

His engine hitched once, then after a little pause, it did it again. Sunstreaker brought his servos to his face as Megatron continued to move in and out of his body, continued to touch him, continued to exist…

Continued to be everything he didn’t want, but all he had.

“Easy now,” Megatron murmured to him as if he was a cornered, frightened animal. And maybe he was, in some ways. Cornered at the very least.

A little frightened too, but not of physical retribution. He couldn’t give a damn about that.

But Megatron’s games were a different matter. The tyrant was so frightfully proficient at what he did. He knew just when to push, just when to pull, where to apply pressure, how to apply it.

How was he supposed to survive that?

“Come here,” Megatron continued with, his voice soft in a way that just didn’t suit him. Gently he pulled Sunstreaker upright, back against his chassis—against the heat of him… His spike nudging even deeper into his valve as he sat on the tyrant’s lap.

The last place he wanted to be.

The only place he was allowed to be.

“Turn around for me.”

Sunstreaker’s spark began to spin wildly in his chest, fearing it knew where this was going—and fearing he would just go along with it out of sheer desperation.

Megatron directed him with firm but patient touches, briefly pushing him off his spike so he’d have the room to turn around–

Then grabbing him by the hips, pulling him close, and impaling him all over again.

He shouldn’t enjoy the feeling of being stuffed full of the tyrant’s spike, but a part of him preferred that to the aching emptiness of not having it.

He had to fight to lift his helm and stare up at Megatron, trying his best to glare, to have fire in his optics… And yet knowing there wasn’t as much of it as there had been.

All he needed to do was recover it, though. All he needed to do was get out of here and have a chance to recover.

But pits, the things he’d have to do to get away…

“Do you want to fuel?” Megatron asked from him, and there was something in his field that put Sunstreaker on edge. Well, more so than what he already was.

Which really wasn’t as much as there should be.

“You know I do,” he snarled in answer, but even knowing what he’d need to do… He couldn’t bring himself to initiate anything. If Megatron would have even allowed that, and not taken offense with the presumptiveness of doing anything without his explicit go ahead.

It was for the best he didn’t try, considering what Megatron did next. He took another mouthful from the cube he’d set aside, but… Didn’t swallow.

And Sunstreaker knew exactly what he was expected to do.

He didn’t keen, no matter how he wanted to.

Defeat. Wasn’t that what this was? Another battle lost, more land given.

What else could he do?

Stasis was the worse option, and the one that wouldn’t get him any closer to freedom.

He was shuddering, disgust, so heavy—barely moved through his lines by his fuel pump.

Or so it felt like.

Not one part of him wanted to do this, but after cycling far too many ventilations, testing Megatron’s patience for far too long… Sunstreaker reached up, shivering at the drag of Megatron’s spike in his valve as he rose further up on his knees.

Megatron leaned down to meet him, but left the final inches up to Sunstreaker.

It hurt. It fucking hurt to force his frame up that final stretch—to press his lips against Megatron’s.

Against the mech’s that had claimed his life to a fate he wasn’t sure was any preferable to death.

But he did it. Megatron’s arm wrapped around his lower back and pulled him a little further up, until the reach was far too easy—far too easy to mold his lips to Megatron’s.

True to his word, Megatron allowed him to have the fuel—passing it from one oral cavity to another, with barely a drop slipping by. Sunstreaker swallowed, his frame thanking him–

His spark, hating him.

It was fuel, but only one mouthful. Megatron allowed him to pull away afterwards and Sunstreaker wiped the back of his servo across his mouth.

His servo was shaking.

“Would you like more?” Megatron asked. Sunstreaker glanced up to see him holding the cube in one servo, his look meaningful as he took another mouthful.

Same thing. Again. If he wanted the fuel he needed so badly.

Sunstreaker felt something inside him fracture.

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

“You can go once you recharge next to me,” Megatron told him that night. Sunstreaker’s spark surged with the promise of freedom, of getting the frag out of here…

Of getting back to Sideswipe.

How was Sideswipe even doing? First he’d had to survive in Megatron’s personalized attention, then before Sunstreaker had even had a chance to piece him together… Sideswipe had lost him.

It didn’t sit well with him. Sideswipe had been hurting so badly…

And compared to everything else that had already happened, what was sleeping next to the tyrant? He could be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, but where would that get him?

Nowhere. Here and now it would get him nowhere.

So Sunstreaker climbed onto the berth after Megatron and allowed the larger mech to pull him close.

Just laid there when Megatron slipped his spike into his valve and drove the both of them towards an overload, fast.

Just let his helm be turned until Megatron’s lips landed on his again, his glossa forcing entry, thrusting—just like his hips.

As always, overload hit him before Megatron. Sunstreaker groaned into the kiss as his valve rippled, his frame shuddered. Pleasure. Pleasure he didn’t want but could do nothing about.

Megatron followed him shortly after, his overload spilling into his valve, and Sunstreaker was grateful—how could he be grateful for anything?—that it wasn’t aimed on the outside of his frame, this time.

“Lick it clean,” Megatron ordered him after.

He didn’t, not before Megatron caught him by a helm fin and forced him down, his face next to the spike.

He got two options. “Lick it clean or I’ll use your throat for it.”

Which was worse? That wasn’t a hard decision.

Sunstreaker closed his optics, fought back the tears—but extended his glossa and began to wipe away the mess of transfluid and lubricant with it.

Megatron rumbled in approval. Megatron didn’t rush him. Megatron let him go about it as he saw fit.

Megatron wouldn’t let him stop before he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his spike.

He didn’t recharge that night any more than he recharged any night previously. The only difference was that instead of spending it on the floor, under the berth… He spent it under the heavy arm of one dictator. Megatron slept peacefully, although Sunstreaker didn’t fool himself into thinking he wasn’t ready for any threat, coming from Sunstreaker or otherwise.

Not that Sunstreaker could have made himself much of a threat anyway.

He could feel a mix of transfluid and lubricant weeping out his valve for quite a while, before things dried up.

Megatron took notice of that in the morning, eyeing the quite thoroughly soiled berthtop. “You, my dear, need a wash,” he commented, running his claw through some of the stains of transfluid left on Sunstreaker’s plating.

Sunstreaker couldn’t really disagree with that. He followed the tyrant from the berthroom, through the lounge, into the hallway and into the washracks that Sideswipe had already visited.

Like with Sideswipe, Megatron had him help him wash first, not that there was terribly much to wash. Unlike him, Megatron had taken showers in between their... Sessions. He was clean and gleaming soon enough.

Then Sunstreaker was allowed to wash himself. Quickly. And he did, wanting to get the worst off it away before Megatron decided he’d ran out of time.

He was pleasantly successful in that and there was really nothing but a thorough polishing that he needed after he was through with himself. That… That he could likely do later.

In the harem wing.

“Do I get to return to the harem now?” he asked as he was drying himself under Megatron’s gaze. That one word burned on his vocalizer, but he didn’t know how to get under or over it.

It was a harem.

“Yes,” was all Megatron said, and there was… Approval in his optics as he watched him.

Sunstreaker didn’t want that. He didn’t want the bastard’s approval—not for his looks, not for his actions.

But recently, he’d earned it through both, hadn’t he?

He ached.

Megatron himself led him from the tyrant’s wing of the palace and Sunstreaker got to see just how the guards at the doors to the harem wing reacted to his presence. They bowed as they opened the doors for him—them. Megatron pushed him in ahead of himself, but instead of just leaving it there… He followed him in.

Sideswipe descended upon him at once. His brother was crying, hard, and Sunstreaker could feel it—the relief, in both of them.

It was with delay that Sideswipe took notice of Megatron’s presence. The tyrant was watching them, his red optics glowing bright in the dim of the hallway, and Sideswipe shied away from his gaze, practically hiding behind Sunstreaker.

So he hadn’t particularly recovered in the time Sunstreaker had been absent.

That didn’t surprise him very much.

Sunstreaker fought to keep it together, for Sideswipe’s sake, even as Megatron’s servo landed on his back again, pressing, pushing him further into the wing. It didn’t leave either, but remained as a constant touch as Megatron guided him, and Sideswipe by extension, through the hallway and into the harem’s berthroom.

The mates present looked up as they entered, backs straightening at the sight of Megatron.

Engines revving.

Megatron paid none of them any mind, looking instead at Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker refused to cower under his optics despite the intent in them. He didn’t know what it was for, but Megatron didn’t waste much time in showing him, because the tyrant leaned down, hooked a claw under his chin—tilting his helm up and forcing their lips together.

Sideswipe’s engine stalled next to him and he could feel Sideswipe all but drop to the floor from surprise and horror.

Horror that Megatron was even doing something like that, and horror that Sunstreaker would just let him.

What happened?

It didn’t end there. If only it had, but Megatron reached down with his other servo, slipped it between his legs… Pushed two of his digits up into his valve.

There, at the sight of absolutely everyone.

He pumped them a few times, deliberately brushing against sensors until Sunstreaker’s frame was heating despite himself and he squirmed just so, trying to dislodge the digits. Megatron ended their kiss, at the very least, but then he yanked with the digits buried into his valve—abrupt sting on the sensors in the area. A strangled groan escaped Sunstreaker. Sideswipe held onto his arm tighter.

“I did so enjoy our time together,” Megatron said at length, brushing a digit along his cheek and grabbing his jaw when Sunstreaker tried to turn his helm away. “Didn’t you?”

He wasn’t given a chance to answer. Megatron released him, removed his digits from his valve, and… Walked out. Sunstreaker could hear his steps retreat down the hallway, then the door open for him, and close after him.

Gone. His tormentor was finally gone.

But he’d left behind the burn of utter humiliation. If he’d even had a cover to close… But he didn’t.

His helm hung. The other mates were trying hard to not look at them, pretend they hadn’t seen a thing.

Tears stung in his optics, and when Sideswipe hugged him, he couldn’t hold them back. He buried his face against his brother’s shoulder, seeking shelter like he never did.

But now he did, and the tears fell one by one, slowly staining his face and Sideswipe’s armor.

“What did he do to you?” Sideswipe asked quietly but so fiercely, holding him tighter and bringing one servo up to stroke it along the back of his helmet. He could feel his twin’s anger… But also the knowledge he could do nothing, except be there for him in the aftermath.

That would just have to be enough. For both of them.

They had to get through this.

Sunstreaker only shook his helm in answer. There were too many things, too many emotions—too many concessions to put into any succinct words. Instead… “I need to see Knock Out,” he said, hating the way his voice cracked.

Sideswipe didn’t acknowledge that, only the words spoken. Sunstreaker could feel him nodding before his brother carefully pulled away, grasping him by the arm—keeping that as their point of contact. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go see him.”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #megatron #sunstreaker #sideswipe #harem au #megasun #twins #fic #2020

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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So I came across this take on twitter on the topic of Catra/Adora recently, and it's been gnawing at me. My knowledge of the series is patchy at best, so I was curious to hear your thoughts about this position.

***

At the risk of getting some intense backlash for this, I absolutely agree. Anyone who followed me during Ilia’s reveal knows that I’m very critical of villain-queer relationships. Not that we can’t ever have that, but in a media landscape where queer rep is still so comparatively rare, I’m wary of prioritizing those toxic relationships in the name of “authenticity.” We already get enough heat for being “unnatural” and “damaging.” I’ve lost the article now, but this morning I literally read another headline about how we’ve apparently destroyed the sanctity of marriage, gays are evil, they’re a threat to society, blah blah blah. That shit is still very, very prominent. So, in this climate, I’m really not a promoter of “This woman tried to kill her love’s parents and send her back to her abuser! This one has been trying to kill her and her friends for ages! How romantic!”

Because - not to get into a huge deconstruction of She-Ra - Catra absolutely continues the cycle of abuse. Is she an abuse victim? Yes. Does she then go on to abuse others? Yes. Sadly, that’s fairly common and a lot of Adora’s growth lately stems from realizing that no matter how many times she begs Catra to stop, she won’t. Some of the reasons why this pairing is so popular despite Catra’s treatment includes:

They belong to a children’s TV show where the expectation is that, no matter how horrific you might be, you’re always redeemable. A “real” hero never abandons someone and if a villain doesn’t die then they should be forgiven once a hero cares for them (a la Hordak)

Catra is an abusive victim and we spend a good chunk of the story following her conflicts, not just Adora’s. She is presented as incredibly sympathetic and thus it’s easy to miss/ignore how she’s become the new Shadow Weaver. Catra was introduced as the victim and that’s how she stays in many viewers’ minds, no matter what she might do now that she’s finally gotten power over others

Coinciding with that sympathetic portrayal and the point about kids’ shows, Catra is very much set up as someone who will eventually be redeemed (especially at the end of this last season). Everyone expects and pictures the day when Catra will be good again and then yay, she can get together with Adora. That expectation and knowledge of how storytelling/TV shows work - of course this sympathetic villain who our hero adores will be redeemed! - colors every action Catra takes. The viewer is primed to forgive her from the get-go

The fact that, as the tweeter says, there’s absolutely an argument that they had/have feelings for one another. The desire to see them together, again, makes it easy (or at least alluring) to just ignore all the stuff potentially getting in the way of that

But from Adora’s perspective - from the perspective of the canonical show - Catra is a villain. She’s become an abuser. She continually blames Adora for both the abuse they suffered as kids and has spent seasons seeking her destruction, going so far as to risk their entire world purely because she couldn’t stand Adora being right:

“Adora is right? Adora gets everything she wants! But not this time. This time, I am going to win. I don’t care what it takes. We are opening that portal now.”

Catra is an incredibly complex character who has equally complex baggage to work through. She deserves to come out of this and find happiness. However, that doesn’t mean that she likewise deserves to get back what she herself destroyed. Her happiness should not stem from the romantic love of a woman she’s done horrific things to. As the tweeter says, go wild with the fanworks, but I wouldn’t want them to be made canon in the show. That would require everyone ignoring the staggering amount of damage Catra has done and sending the horrific message that you should put up with/accept/forgive even the most heinous crimes against you (especially since She-Ra only has one more season to go. There isn’t time to redeem Catra and get her together with Adora in a healthy way). Adora is the hero. She’s the character the audience is supposed to look to. So if she walks happily into an absolutely toxic and arguably abusive relationship, that doesn’t teach people to be forgiving in the general sense. It teaches them that the people who treat you the worst are also the ones who love you the most which... no. So many kid(esque) shows simply don’t take the complexity of abuse and forgiveness into account when writing a Pure and Good Hero who Always Forgives (though thus far She-Ra has done a damn good job). This is one piece of how people - particularly women - learn that giving all of themselves and receiving nothing but harm in return is not just normal, but supposedly romantic. Just keep trying! Metaphorically kill yourself trying to fix someone who isn’t willing to put in any work to improve! You’ll get there eventually! And if you don’t, well, that one time they cried was really heartbreaking, right? Just focus on that and ignore that 95% of the time they’re being cruel at best and trying to kill you at worst. The ending of “And the abuser/abusee lived happily ever after” teaches that if victims aren’t finding that happy ending for themselves, they just need to sacrifice more to achieve it. A fictional happy ending is dangled like a very real carrot in front of anyone who sees themselves in Adora/Catra. “Oh. This isn’t cruelty. This is passion. She needs help! If I just stick around and try harder then I can achieve that too.” To say nothing of, again, the message is sends about queer relationships in general. They’re inherently damaging.

“Fixing” villains/damaged characters via the Power of Love is hugely alluring. I love that shit in my fandom. But that doesn’t mean it should be perpetuated in the canon and presented as an excellent form of queer rep. There’s a Grand Canyon’s width of difference between antagonist characters who are given excellent redemption arcs and thus may have a relationship later on (someone like Zuko) and villain characters who remain villains up until the last second when they’re “redeemed” and all their horrors are immediately forgotten (someone like Ilia and potentially Catra depending on how Season 5 goes).

#She-Ra #LGBTQIA #long post #submission

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melancholydreadfuldream · 4 years

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Cosmic Love Nightmare

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Whittaker!Master x Reader, 13th Doctor x Reader

Summary: DW AU. You and the Master are definition of bad romance. The Doctor is determined to separate the two of you.

Warning: ooc, use of violence, mention of rape, murder, bad moral, depression, dark!reader, etc

A/N: So, lately, I have been reading plenty fan fiction about Whittaker!Master and Dhawan!Doctor and I love each one of them. I got inspired to write one too.

I’m sorry for the quality of the language as English is not my first language so you will probably get a bit or a lot of headache. So, I’m not sure about this fic, I hope you all enjoy reading it? And if you do like it, please like/comment.

The Hybrid.

A Galiifreyan prophecy that predicted that a hybrid creature of a crossbred from two warrior races would stand over the ruins of Gallifrey and unravel web of time, breaking a billion billion hearts to heal its own.

“Hybrid bla bla bla...” The Master said with a mocking tone as she rolled her eyes.

I frowned. “And...what? The other Time Lords think that hybrid thing is us?”

The Master shrugged her shoulder. “Look around.” She said. “Here we are standing in a ruin of a planet.”

We stood on top of a cliff with the best view of the ruination.

“Not Gallifrey though.” I said with a shrug. “This is just a general chaos.”

She smiled as she come closer to me and whispered, “Only you would call the ruin of planet a general chaos.”

I shrugged. “If we didn’t do it, someone else would.” I said with a careless tone. “I’m not the only one who called it general chaos. You did it too.”

The Master grinned and did a dramatic twirling. “I know. Let’s call ourselves team Hybrid from now on.” She said.

As if on cue, they could hear a distant echo of groaning Tardis of the Doctor.

I sighed. “And here come team Tardis.”

The Master sighed dramatically just as a man walked toward us followed by his three companions. “Oh, Doctor, have you come to join the party?”

“Stop it. Both of you, stop this nonsense right now!” The Doctor yelled in fury.

“But where is the fun in that?” The Master said with adorable pout.

I watched the interaction between those two. Apparently, they have been dancing around like this since forever with the everlasting theme of savior-villain. I let them have their moment and then turned away to watch with fascination the fiery ruin before me.

“How could you stand with her, (name)?” Yaz suddenly called out to me.

I rolled my eyes. I have no interest in defending myself to a bunch of goodie-good. I shushed her much to her dismay. But she didn’t get the hint and stepped forward toward me, demanding my attention. What a foolish bitch. The only reason she still standing is because I’m currently in a good mood and also the Master told me not to harm the Doctor’s companion directly. She warned me that the Doctor is a goodie-good but he is also dangerous when it come to the protection of his companion.

“Don’t come any closer. I won’t be held responsible for hurting you if you are within distance for me to break your...” I looked her up and down with disdain. “...well, everything...” I said with a fake sweet smile.

Yaz still opened her mouth to blabber but thankfully, Ryan and Graham pulled her away from me immediately. They knew I am a mutant, that I am very strong, I could break their bones without breaking a sweat. They also knew that I am a killer and a monster. Who else would join the Master in her quest for chaos?

I sighed. I got bored already. “Master, can we just go? This is getting boring...”

The Master and the Doctor stopped their banter and glanced at me.

The Master gave me a fond smile before stepped forward toward me but was stopped when the Doctor gripped her wrist.

“Master, please...” The Doctor begged. “The way you are going right now...Gallifrey will come for you and her...”

“Doctor, are you worried for us or are you worried me and (name) will destroy your precious Gallifrey, Mr President, dear?” The Master pulled her wrist out of his hold and mockingly took a bow at him.

The Doctor groaned in frustration.

The Master grinned mischievously as she walked backward and then turned around to face me. She pulled me to her and kissed me hard.

I smiled into the kiss. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the companion of the Doctor making a disgusted face at the sight of us kissing.

“Come on then, my dear, our work here is done.” She said.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor suddenly said.

We ignored him as we walked away from them. I was about to put on coordinates on my vortex manipulator that would get us back to the Master’s Tardis but stopped when the next thing he said gave me chill.

“But I can’t let you two be together any longer.” The Doctor said.

I turned around and growled at him for the threat on us.

The Master stopped me and turned to glare at the Doctor. “And how are you going to stop us?”

Yaz suddenly grabbed me and put some bracelet on my wrist. I didn’t expect that so I have no way to stop it. She is quick to release me and took a few steps away from me before I could attack her.

“Master!” I yelled when I realized I couldn’t get the bracelet off me.

The Master turned to look at me and at the bracelet just as the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver toward me, activating the bracelet. Her eyes widened as she realized something. “Nooo!” she yelled as she tried to reach me but before she could, I vanished in a blip.

The Master fell into the ground in shock then she turned to look at the Doctor. “What have you done, Doctor? Where did you send her?”

The Doctor actually looked almost sorry but he was calm. “(name) is safe. I just send her faraway from here, to a place not of this universe, where you can never reach out...”

The Master stood as she glared at him. “Oh, you just watch me, Doctor.” Her eyes blazed in fury.

7777

I fell into the ground and immediately puke. Cold sweat covered my face. I blinked my eyes and tried to focus on the surrounding.

I was in a park on Earth...I think? But something is wrong. The sky...the color is a bit off and the oxygen here just not the same as I used to. The Master once told me in passing about alternate universes where some things were different and others remained the same. I dreaded the thought that damn Doctor actually would go this far in order to separate me from the Master.

The Master. My heart felt like it was about to shatter. I was hoping to hear her voice right about now. But I realized I was alone. I glanced at the cursed bracelet on my wrist. To my surprise, the bracelet fell off my wrist easily this time as if it knew it already finished its purpose. I growled angrily. I begrudgingly picked up the offending item, hoping to figure out a way back using it. But I am not a genius like the Time Lords, hell, not even a human genius. I am just me, a mutant, and a result of human experimentation gone wrong.

I fingered the vortex manipulator on my other wrist and to my great frustration, it was broken. Not that the vortex manipulator would be much use, it can’t be used to travel to another alternate universe.

I prayed I was wrong, that I wasn’t in some alternate universe. My hope got smashed when I confirmed my worst fear as I pick up the newspaper from the nearby seller.

I made a vow though that I would do everything in my power to return my beloved, the Master. I have to find some calibre genius to use to figure out this dilemma. I wonder if I should track down the version of the Master in this world but decided against it until further investigation.

“Just you wait, Master, nothing can separate us...” I whispered.

Six months later...

Six painful months later, I was still stuck in this alternate earth. I have to work to support myself. I worked in a diner somewhere in New York. I went my daily life with annoyance. It was a miracle I could restrain myself from killing half the idiot people here.

I lay on my dirty bed inside my small and dirty rent room. I raised the vortex manipulator, hoping it would stop being broken already and let me use it to travel off the earth. I growled as I shake the damn thing really hard. To my surprise, it started to make a bleeping sound.

I moved into a seating position and observed the vortex manipulator. “No way, it works!” I said with a disbelief laugh.

7777

Thank God, the vortex manipulator works otherwise I would have loss my sanity and started killing people just for breathing wrong near my vicinity.

So, what is the first thing I do? I track down a version of myself in this universe. Apparently, the thing that remained the same is the other me being caught and experimented on by the Division.

Division is an organization who worked outside the law and consists of both alien and human. Their main purpose is to monitor the happening within the universe and sell the information to those who is willing to pay a high price. They are not the good guys, obviously. Their purpose is to create a world that fit their agenda, so, depending on the current agenda; they might step in as the saviour of the people or become the instigator of chaos.

Their purpose at the time they caught me back in my universe is to create super soldier with the intention to sell them to the highest bidder.

I was an orphan after I lost my parents in accident. I was nobody, no family, so they thought even if I was missing, no one would truly care. I was taken to be used as an experiment. Luckily, if you can call it that; I was one of the successful experiments. I got super strength. I broke through the restrain in my fit of anger and attacked every last one of my tormentors with my bare hands.

I was covered in blood from head to toes after I finished with my slaughters. That’s when the Master came into view. She took me in after that, she took care of me and she helped me understand my power and to use it to do the most damage. I love every second of it.

Of course, at first, I didn’t trust the Master. I almost kill her that first time but something she said made me let her go and it helped that my rage already subsided by then, enough for me to see reason. I demanded to be left alone and she did for the most part. She gained my trust after she saved me when I was taken by surprise and ambushed by Division’s soldiers.

She saved me even though I almost strangle her to death the first time we met. She reasoned with me that she is on my side. She gave me my space albeit with a lot of mocking on her part. Once I let her in, she showed me everything, taught me everything I need to know to survive and to fight back. I knew she is not on a side of good, she told me so, but thanks to her, I craved for chaos as she did after she show me the joy of ruining lives. They have ruined mine so why shouldn’t I ruin others too?

The Doctor found me and wanted to take me in his care. The Master allowed him to take me just so we could play a nasty game with him and his companion. That’s how I knew the Doctor and his stupid fam. Apparently, I passed the test from the Master regarding whether I would be influenced by the goodness of the Doctor.

The Doctor warned me that the Master is only using me, that she didn't really care about me. But he didn't know us. I have enough confident after the time we spent together to believe that the Master did care for me. I didn't know if she loves me but I didn't mind it for now. I love how she kissed me hard and flirted with me. She made me happy and that's what matters.

Anyway, back at present time, the base where the other me is imprisoned, located in the same place as my past so, sneaking my way into the base is quite easy. I disguised myself and I located the other me, she was restrained and looked absolutely pathetic. Do I want to rescue her? But I would like to know if she is truly the same as me? Will she gain super strength too?

I thought about the Master and wonder what I should do. I think she would want me to mess the version of the Doctor here. So I made a plan to get the Doctor here and rescue the other me and the others. The Master taught me how to cheat with psychic paper. I was able to send SOS signal toward what I hopefully into the Doctor’s psychic paper. Now I only have to wait for the goodie-good team to arrive.

7777

I was floored when I saw the version of the Doctor here. I recognized her companion, the annoying fam I remembered back in my universe. But the Doctor...she has my beloved’s face, she has the Master’s face! How is that even possible? I confirmed her identity when I heard Yaz called her the Doctor. Ugh, I’m going to barf. And what kind of clothes she is wearing? Glad to know every version of the Doctor in universe apparently have bad taste in fashion. Seriously. My beloved Master dressed better than her!

Wait, if she is the Doctor, then the man who is called the Doctor back in my universe would be...the Master over here? Ugh, what kind of twisted world is this?!

As predicted, once team Tardis found out about the human experiment going on inside the base, they set their goodie-good shoes to set them free. The Doctor even gave whoever in charge of the base a firm oncoming storm talk.

I watched in secret as the Doctor interacts with the other me. The other me looked very grateful to be rescued. The Doctor took all patients to the best hospital in galaxy. They even stick around for a while to observe the damage on the patients.

That’s when I made my way to the room where the other me currently lying in bed peacefully. She woke up when she noticed someone in the room and her eyes widened in shock when she saw me.

I grinned viciously. “Hello, me.” I said as I pulled the machinery that monitor her heartbeat off. It wouldn’t do to alert the others that I was here.

“What?”

“Goodbye, me.” I said flatly as I grabbed a pillow and pushed it to cover her entire face rendering her unable to breathe. Easily, I removed her body and dumped it somewhere where no one would find for a long while. I took her place and get into the bed and put the machinery back on me.

Not long after, a nurse came in for my check-up and to draw some blood. The result of that blood test would surely get the Doctor to come and see me. The Doctor can’t resist mystery so she will definitely want to talk to me.

Mission to infiltrate the Doctor’s inner circle is now commencing.

7777

All I have to do next is put on doe eyes and pretend to be surprise to suddenly have super strength and faked a mini freak-out. I purposely broke everything in sight in my total panic and acted as if I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t hard to do. I smiled as I remembered my past. I once got amnesiac and forgot about my power and did exactly that, breaking stuff without meaning too. The Master told me I was very adorable and very damsel in distress-like. But she was glad when I finally got my memory back because she can't stand that version of me who was stupidly innocent.

So, now I just have to pretend I didn’t know my own strength. As predicted, the Doctor invited me to travel with her on board of the Tardis. She said she will help me understand my power and if there is a way to cure it off me in case I didn’t want the power. I got a bio damper on my person to hide the void stuff that the Master once told me someone who have crossed on alternate universe will have. I can't allow the Doctor to find out that I was not of this universe.

Yaz, Ryan and Graham are very welcoming and friendly. They kept sending me a look of pity every time I told them about the torture that the Division put me through. Since it really did happened to me, I didn't have to fake the emotion regarding it.

The Doctor, though, seemed very upset. I could see the dark look passed her expression for a few seconds and on that few seconds; I almost thought she is my beloved. The Master once told me about the Doctor's dark side and should he ever give in, he will be the cruelest villain in the whole universe. I must admit I'm curious about the Doctor's dark side but on this version of the Doctor, the one who has my beloved's face.

The Master, I wonder how she is doing back in our universe. Did she still trying to get me back? She has to, right? She has yet to grow bored of me. I'm the best companion she could ever have. My heart aches for her. Seeing this version of the Doctor certainly didn't help.

Sometimes I want to kiss the Doctor whenever she is being adorable, then next thing I know, I just want to punch her and claw her stupid face whenever she is being too sunshiny for me. Why did she has to have the Master's face?

She made my life difficult because sometimes I could have believe she is a better version of the Master, one that might be capable to love me properly. But I know better. I am a monster and the only one who could ever love someone like me would only be someone who is as mess up in the head as me, like the Master, one could hope. Even then, I still don't know what exactly I am to her. We were not exactly traditional couple. The circumstance of our meeting is shaky at best.

I clawed at my arms till I drew blood at the thought I almost got swayed by the goodness that is the Doctor. If the Master knew, she would be disgusted with me.

7777

We went to a random planet on the Doctor's whim. Next thing I knew, the fam and me were taken hostage by the royal family in order to ensure the Doctor's cooperation. I was ecstatic to see the oncoming storm in action. I was planning to let thing unfold to see what is going to happen.

And then this royal bastard has to go be an ass-hat. He went after Yaz for being mouthy. Stupid bitch. He tried to rape her. And he was going to do it in front of us too. I snapped, enough said. I must have black out for a bit because I woke up drenched in blood in a corridor littered with mangled corpses. And the companions were understandably decided to keep their distance from me. They were afraid of me.

Well, this is suck. I hated it when my fit of rage turned me into a basic hulk. I have no control. It was a miracle that the Doctor's companions survive unharmed during my raging period. This kind of ruined my plan to stay the innocent companion for a while. Will the Doctor kick me out of the Tardis now that I did this? Surely, she would want to keep her companion safe from me. But I have to stay with the Doctor until I could figure out to use her to get back to the Master. What do I do now?

I must still in haze from the blood lust that I didn't realize the Doctor has bent her knees in front of me, uncaring that her clothes will be littered in blood. She was fussing over me. She pulled her sonic screwdriver to scan me. She look relieved upon realizing I was unharmed and that relief immediately turned to horror when she realized what exactly I have done. The companion steered clear of me. They cautioned the Doctor to do the same. But the Doctor ignored them and gently shaking me out of my stupor.

She thought I was in shock and I played along. I was mostly pissed at my out of control rage. And then, I remembered when I have that royal ass-hat's neck gripped tight within my hand, I saw the Master, or at least, a hallucination of sort.

"I love it when you are feeling murderous, dear." She said with a wink. "Go ahead, you know you want to. Make it bloody. Make him suffer. I knew you always had a weakness for these types of bad guys..."

She was right. I would kill indiscriminately if I have to and if she asked me to. But rapists and torturers pissed me off greatly, the Master said I suffered traumatic experience with that sort of thing, which make me lose my shit whenever I come across those types. I honestly didn't quite remember the trauma though. I took very great pleasure in torturing and killing them. The man was begging me to release him but I ignored him. I would rather listen to my beloved.

"Though, I'm kind of worry that you are beginning to be a softie, dear. Staying with the Doctor would do that to you. Are you now good, my dear?"

I growled at that.

"Was it because she has my face? Did she make you want to be a good girl?" She asked teasingly.

I tightened my grip on the man's neck.

"Prove it then. Kill him. Kill his royal family and his soldiers. Make it bloody rain, dear." The Master grinned as she urged me to surrender to my blood lust. "Show me a bad girl."

I could distinctly hear the companion saying something to me but I ignored them. I lost my shit afterward.

7777

The Doctor covered up my crime. I would have thought the goodie-good would surrender me to authority. She said she forgives me. She knew I didn't mean to do it. Yaz did say I did it to save her from being raped...somewhat. Even though she can't explain why I lost my shit and gone on a killing spree.

I faked a panic attack and asked to be left alone after I cleaned myself off all the blood. I even cried telling them that I was a monster and I deserved to die and sobbing stuff like that. As predicted, the Doctor and companion tried to calm me down and reassured me that I am a good person at heart. I almost snorted at that. Almost. I purposely being dramatic and said I have to leave the Tardis now. The Doctor won't let me go though. I think she wanted to keep an eye on me. Ugh, now I have to be extra careful around her. I hope I could get back to my universe soon. This universe is suck and I miss the Master so much.

In the end, all ended well, I remained on board of the Tardis. Though, the dynamic is changed now that they were wary of me. It was like they were waiting for me to lose my sanity again and go on a random killing spree. But I remained angelic for display. I acted with hesitation and wary of leaving the safety of the Tardis. The Doctor promised me she would keep an eye on me and made sure I will be okay for the duration of our next adventure.

7777

I purposely put myself in danger in order to rescue the Doctor during one of our routine adventure. I did it to establish reputation within the Doctor's circle that I could be redeemed or whatever. At least, that is what I said to convince myself. It was her face, my beloved’s face that made me want to save her. For a second, I forgot that she was not the Master and I didn't want her to get hurt so, I jumped into a line of fire to save her. That is what happened. No more.

The Doctor kept giving me a look I can't decipher, once I was on board of the Tardis, resting in the med-bay, after she treated my injuries. She was upset that I risk my life for her; that I could tell. Well, that won't happen again, pal, don't worry!!

7777

Oh, this is bullshit. Of all the thing that could happen to me, I had to get ambushed by the Division. They somehow heard that the experiment on 'me' was successful and now they wanted to capture me for their own gain. But they were prepared. They slapped a cuff that somehow damper my ability. I was helpless and under their mercy much to my annoyance.

And then I saw her. Sonya. I knew her back in my universe. During captivity, we became friend. But, she was one of the failure subjects and she got disposed as a result. But, this Sonya...she has power. She can control mind and bitch is trying to control my mind. Well, shit! Apparently, the Division has got to her earlier in this universe and she has become their lap dog. I saw the collar she wears though. I recognized the collar back in my universe. It has a calming effect and a bomb encased within to ensure the subjects' cooperation. They put one on me here too. Double shit!

The Doctor and companion have no idea who captured me but I have faith that the Doctor will figure it out. She is smart, isn't she? She will know and hopefully come to my rescue soon before they turn me into mindless pet of the Division.

Back in my universe, the Master made it a point to invade my mind once I deemed her okay. She said she wanted to make sure I would be ready in case someone or heck, maybe even the Doctor, tried to get inside my mind to make me agreeable to whoever. She taught me to put a block on my mind. I was very grateful for her lessons now. Sonya is hilariously frustrated because she can't remove the block in my mind. But, I could tell she is very powerful. It would only be a matter of time before she breaks into my mind. I can't afford that. She could outed my true identity. If only I have my power, I would have snapped her neck in an instant.

It finally happened. She broke through the block. I immediately pushed my memory of being friend with the Sonya of my universe. Sonya look confused. I showed her my devastation when the Division took my Sonya away. I showed her the experiments on me and how I lost my control and killed most of Division's people on the base back then.

"You...are not (name)." She said. "What happened to the real (name)?"

I showed her my memory of killing the other me.

She stared at me as if I was crazy. "Why would you do that?"

I pictured the face of the Doctor and my intention with her. "I want to go home..." I finally whispered.

'You...are really not from this universe?' She asked telepathically.

I nodded and I said some stuff to her from within my mind so that no one can hear. 'But you can't tell anyone...' I begged. 'Please help me. Don't let Division control us.'

Sonya didn't reply for a few seconds.

'That collar contain bomb, you know, they lied to you. It does have calming effect but it was also a tracker and a bomb. They can't afford of losing their asset and if the assets become useless or a loose end, they will detonate the bomb.' I explained.

'Do you know how to get the collar off?'

'I know of a way, yeah, but we need a sonic screwdriver. You need to contact the Doctor and tell them where we are.'

'The Doctor?'

'She can help us. She will be able to receive your telepathic message too.' I said. 'Do it if you want your freedom, Sonya.'

Sonya left without a word. I hope what I said convinced her or I have no choice but to serve as the Division's pet. Ugh, I would rather die. I tried to carefully mask my thought of killing Sonya deep down. If she knew, she would not want to help me.

7777

Alarm within the base suddenly blared loudly. I sighed in relief. I hope that would be the Doctor coming for me. Shortly after, the Doctor came inside the room where I was restrained. She let me go and I expressed my most sincere gratitude.

"Thank you." I whispered weakly. "Thank you for coming back for me."

The Doctor gave me a sweet smile as she sonic the collar offs me. But I noticed she hesitated for a brief moment to sonic the damn cuff off me. Thank God, she did. "I got your message from Sonya. Nice girl."

"Where is she?"

"She is controlling the Division men to leave us alone." The Doctor said. "I really need to do something about this Division."

But, the Division is like that villain organization from those superheroes movies, hydra something, cut off one head and another grow, like worm or whatever? At least, back in my universe, when I hunted them, they just seemed to come back again one way of another. Even with the help of the Master, I still can't completely get rid of the Division. It would probably be the same over here.

"So, you already freed her from the collar? I'm glad I was right about you coming back to rescue us." I said with the most angelic look I can muster.

"Of course, I would. I would never abandon my companion." she said with cheerful tone.

"Is that what I am? Companion? Not a charity case?" I asked.

The Doctor glanced at me with an expression I can't comprehend. "I would like to think we are friend now, (name)."

Shit. That face... My heart just skipped a beat and I didn't like it one bit. I can't be catching feeling for her. I think I will barf.

7777

The Doctor took us to a carnival in some planet for holiday. I managed to purposely lose them. I pulled my vortex manipulator intending to take care of the loose end called Sonya.

But, she knew I was coming for her and she warned me not to cross her. What a bitch. She did promise to keep my secret. I warned her back that if she broke the promise, I would come for her and torture the hell out of her.

"You saw within my head. You know what I am capable of." I said.

Sonya nodded. "And you better not come back for me again later. Or I will take control of your mind and make you my puppet." she said.

So, I left her and returned to the carnival. I found the Doctor and companion immediately and apologized for making them worry.

The Doctor pulled me close to her and showed me one of the attractions that caught her attention. She asked me to play with her and so I did. Some people in the carnival thought we are a couple on a date.

7777

The next time team Tardis got into the usual trouble, it was the Doctor who stepped in and pulled me out of harm way to the point that she was the one who got hurt. I was pissed at the random villain of the weeks and I kind of lost my shit, wanted to go after him. I didn't see his minion drew their weapon toward me but the Doctor did and the goodie-good actually jumped and pushed me out of the way.

What the hell, Doctor? What the hell is wrong with you?? I was pissed at her and worried for her. That last one is new. But I calmed myself down by telling myself she would do the same for the other companion. But, her face, I hate to see her in pain. I kept telling myself it was because she looks like the Master; not because I care for her. The Doctor was okay, though, thankfully.

I suddenly was feeling angry at myself. Did I actually worry for the Doctor? She might have the Master's face but she is NOT the Master, dammit! Get a grip, Me!

I have to kill someone, right now, preferably, one of the good guys. Better yet, I thought I should leave the Tardis for the time being or maybe forever. The Doctor is no help anyway in figuring a way of home. Though, that was partly my fault because I didn't exactly tell her what I need from her, did I? Shit. Shit.

Perhaps I should try locating the version of the Master in this universe as much as it would make want to puke to ask the face of the Doctor back in my universe. But, with the Master, there is no guarantee he will want to help.

I growled angrily. "This is bullshit!!!" I raged at the world. "Fuck you, Doctor! Fuck you!!" I cursed the Doctor back in my universe. I hope the Master made him pay greatly for what he did to us.

7777

I left the Tardis. Pretty sure, the companions were relieved that I decided to go, especially Yaz. I was not blind; I knew she has feeling for the Doctor. And, I knew the Doctor also care for her a great deal. Given time, I think they would end up together. I also get that feeling with the Doctor and Yaz back in my universe is the same. Some things were meant to be. Did that mean I robbed the Master of this universe his (name)? Ugh, just no! The other (name) is better off dead.

The Doctor tried to stop me but I asked her to respect my decision. I spouted bullshit about wanting to find myself. She was reluctant to drop me off but eventually relents.

So, I left and I decided to take a break from the world for a while. Then I found her, my mother, I meant, the other (name)’s mother. It was purely coincidence to meet her. But I recognized her from the picture I used to keep back in the Master’s tardis. How can she be alive here? If she is alive, the other me actually still got a family, so, why was she captured by the Division?

I eventually found out that the other (name) ran away from home. Her mother was so happy to see me. She hugged me in tears. I was shocked. I let her took me home.

I missed my mother. I suddenly felt guilty for killing the other (name). I couldn’t tell her that I wasn’t her daughter. I was weak with nostalgic emotion and all I wanted right now is to be a daughter. So I did exactly that.

7777

I was happy for a while with my mother until the Division came again for me. This time, they knew the truth that I was not the real (name). They found her body and they were very curious about who I really am.

During the confrontation, my mother was taken hostage and eventually got killed. And the rest is…you can guess. I lost my shit again and went on a killing spree. I was lucky to get a move before they could slap that power-dampening cuff on me.

I was in pain. The grief of losing my mother, she wasn’t even my real mother, but it still hurts so badly. So, I did the only thing I could do to lessen the pain, I went hunting for Division and I tear every member of the cursed Division limb to limb. I let the monster out and I didn’t care.

Like I said before, this version of Division is pretty much the same as back in my universe which mean I knew most of their secret bases. I didn’t always use my bare hands. I used weapon and bomb to lure and destroy them. The Master would be proud of me. The Doctor would frown and be disappointed but who care about her opinion?

I went to one base and another. Pretty sure, the Doctor would eventually caught wind of what I have been doing and knowing her, she would try to capture and reason with me. Just like the Doctor in my universe once did to me. I didn’t care though. Let her come. But I won’t be letting her capture me. I have an exit strategy, one that I hate to use but I will if I have to. Lately, I felt like giving up altogether. I felt like I could never come home to the Master. I lose hope. What if the Master also given up on me? Why else she still not here to get me?

To my surprise though, it was Sonya who appeared before me. She was sorry for my loss but she begged me to stop killing.

“Get out of the way, Sonya! Do not make an enemy of me!” I yelled.

“If you won’t listen to me, maybe you will listen to her.” She said with a sigh.

I frowned before realizing that it was a trap as I turned around, the Doctor was already behind me and she was quick to put that damn power-dampening cuff on my wrist.

I screamed in rage as I attacked her. But I was no longer strong. She easily captured both of my wrists and tried to have me calm down. But I wouldn’t listen. I started sobbing and crying in her arms. Before I knew it, she put her hands over my forehead and I fell into a deep sleep.

7777

The next time I was awake, I was in a glass prison. Predictable. I was angry as I raged within my prison. I knew I was not on Tardis, the Doctor probably didn’t want me to endanger her precious companions. This is somewhere I don’t know. But the security of the prison is of high quality. I can’t believe it. The Doctor actually put me in a private prison, not a galaxy one that I can be thankful of, but still a prison is a prison. I hated this.

The Doctor and Sonya eventually came to visit me.

The Doctor glanced at me in sorrow.

I observed her and then turned to Sonya. “You broke your promise.”

Sonya shrugged. “I have to. You are making scenes with your reckless killing.”

“When I get out of here, I’m going to enjoy torturing the hell out of you, bitch.” I said with a cold smile.

The Doctor stepped in front of Sonya and pleaded with me. “What happen to you, (name)? This isn’t you.”

“Really? And how do you know that this isn’t me, Doctor?” I asked mockingly. “If Sonya here has told you the truth, then you know everything you think you know about me is a lie.”

“But you saved me. You saved my friends. We saved each other.”

I scoffed. “It was just part of my elaborate ruse.”

The Doctor looked like she want to argue but she didn’t. She scrutinized me with her sad eyes. Finally, she asked, “Why did you kill the Division men?”

I shrugged. “They killed my mother.”

“Don’t you mean the other (name)’s mother? Who are you, really? Sonya said that you are from an alternate universe. How did you get here?” The Doctor asked, no, demanded. “Why would you kill the other you?”

I smiled viciously. “How else would I be able to get your attention, Doctor? I need to be with you in the Tardis.”

“Why?”

“I want to go home.” I finally said. “I thought if I stay with you, I would eventually figure out the way home.”

“Why didn’t you come to me and ask for my help honestly?” She asked. “Why use the elaborate ruse to gain my trust?”

I sighed. “I suppose I thought it would make her proud.”

“Who?”

“The Master.”

“You know the Master back in your original universe?”

I smiled evilly. “Jealous?”

The Doctor scoffed. “You kept bad company.”

“Well, ours is always a bad romance.”

“You? And the Master?” she asked in disbelief.

“Why so surprised? Who else would love a monster but a fellow monster?”

“You are not a monster, (name).”

“You are still deluding yourself, Doctor. The (name) you think you know never existed.”

The Doctor is visibly upset with herself and me. “How did you get here?”

“I never wanted to be here. It was you, the other you, who did this to me! He felt threatened by the Master and me, so, instead of killing me, he sent me far away from my beloved.”

“You want to go back home to the Master.” The Doctor said, finally understanding my motive.

“She can’t be allowed to come back to the Master.” Sonya suddenly said.

I glared at her. “Shut your mouth, bitch!”

“I saw her mind. The word ‘hybrid’ came to mind.” Sonya turned to face the Doctor. “…something about a crossbred of warrior races that will stand in the ruins of…”

The Doctor’s eyes widened as she turned to look at me again. “You and the Master…are the hybrid? Did you two destroy Gallifrey?”

I rolled my eyes. “Gallifrey still stands, at least the last time I heard about it.” I said.

“The Doctor, in your original universe, he believed that you and the Master are the hybrid.”

“Not only him; the Time Lords seemed to think so, at least that was the Master said to me. They kept trying to kill us. We haven’t even step one foot within Gallifrey and already they condemn us. Time Jackass.”

The Doctor frowned at me. “Sonya is right. I can’t let you go back to the Master.”

My jaw dropped at what she said. “Doctor, don’t you dare…”

She glanced at me in sorrow. “I’m sorry, (name).”

“So what? You are going to keep me here? Like a freaking pet?” I yelled as I hit on the glass wall in front of me in my anger.

The Doctor sighed. “I will cure you, (name). That power of yours, I study the project, you are always angry because of the power within your veins. I am going to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. If you think you can experiment on me again, think again!” I yelled. “You think I wasn’t prepared for this eventuality?!”

“Oh, I know what you did. I removed that bomb you planted inside your body. I won’t allow you to hurt yourself.” The Doctor said calmly.

My eyes widened in panic when I realized my exit strategy is basically taken away from me. “No. NOO.”

7777

I didn’t know how long I was in the prison. It felt like months. It has been a while since the Doctor’s last visit. Sonya is within the prison as some sort of warden. She saw my mind and she knew I have been thinking various way of killing her once I got out. But she was confident that I wouldn’t get out.

With times, I did lose my hope of getting out. I can’t even kill myself. The Doctor has taken that choice away from me. People always do that to me, except, the Master. But she is not here. Why isn’t she here???

I got depressed.

7777

“Hi, honey, I’m home.”

My mouth hangs open as I saw the Master, my Master, right in front of me.

The Master winked at me. “Step back; let me get you out of this horrid place.”

I followed her instruction and took a step back away from the glass wall.

Once the glass wall shattered, I walked forward and stared at her, still not believing my eyes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” The Master asked impatiently.

I slowly smiled as I jumped out and hugged her. “Where were you?!”

“Ugh, you smelled.”

“Oh, nice, ruin the moment, why don’t you?” I said in annoyance.

It was then I noticed she wasn’t alone. Yaz is there but she looks like she is in daze. The Master must have used mind control on her.

“Is that…?” I asked as I glanced at the Master.

“She is the Yaz of this universe. I found you through her. Her Doctor dropped her on earth for a break. She thought I am the Doctor.” The Master explained. “Speaking of, I can’t believe that the other me is actually the Doctor. What’s up with that?” She scrunched her nose in disgust.

I laughed. “Exactly what I thought the first time I saw her.”

The Master grinned at me. “I heard you have been a very naughty girl. Tricking the Doctor into making you a companion…but you got caught. What happened?”

I frowned and grinned slowly. “Did you happen to meet a Sonya on the way here?”

“The telepath. She tried to use mind control on me. But I turned the table on her.”

“Of course you did.” I said as I glanced at her with fondness. I raised my wrist in front of her. “Do you mind?”

The Master smirked. “Say please.”

I rolled my eyes. “Pretty please.” I said deadpanned.

She grinned and used her version of sonic cane to disable the cuff off my wrist.

I smiled. “Thank you, love.”

Sonya was screaming non-stop as I kept my promise to torture her. The Master is dancing in the middle of room, waving her cane around, dancing to the telepath’s scream.

I knew she is sending psychic message for the Doctor to help her. But I won’t let the Doctor rescued her so I snapped her neck immediately. I know the Doctor will be coming anyway…for Yaz. I glanced at Yaz who finally regained her bearing and was staring at me and the Master in fear.

“How could you do this, (name)?” Yaz asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I do this? The Doctor and Sonya trapped me in a prison.”

“They just wanted to help you.”

“I don’t need their help.”

“Obviously you do.”

“You really need to shut up, Yaz, don’t make me want to kill you.”

Yaz visibly paled and she, thankfully, shut her mouth.

“The Doctor is on her way here. Should we leave?” I asked as I turned toward the Master.

“Why? I would like to meet the other me, the one you have been chummy with.” The Master replied.

I rolled my eyes. “You can’t seriously be jealous. She was annoying as hell, you would hate her. I hate her.”

“Then, we should torture her together.” The Master said with an evil grin. “What should we do to her Yaz?”

I shrugged. “Are you sure? You said the Doctor is…”

“I know what I said about him and I don’t care. The Doctor here will pay the price as the other Doctor did for what they did to you.”

I was touched that she actually was mad on my behalf. “What did you do to the other Doctor? I hope you give that bastard hell.”

“Oh, I trapped his Yaz on the same mirror he used to trap one of his enemies, a family of blood? Whatever. He went inside the mirror to fetch his pet so I shattered it. It would take him a while to figure out a way out. Best case scenario would be making him watch his Yaz grew old inside that mirror while he remained trapped and immortal. He always hated ending and now he will be forced to face an ending.”

I frowned. “Wish you would throw him into the void…” I muttered. “He has the tendency to come back.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we will deal with him once we return to our universe.” The Master promised with a feral grin. “And then we will fulfill the hybrid prophecy…” She pulled me to her and kissed me hard.

I honestly didn’t care about the prophecy. I was just happy to be back by her side.

The Doctor’s Tardis materialized on the room. She stepped out of the door and was taken aback to see her own doppelganger was kissing me.

The Master stopped the kiss and turned to greet the Doctor. She grinned at her. “Hello, Doctor. I heard you have been treating my companion very poorly.”

The Doctor turned to look at me. Her eyes widened. “I…she is the Master?”

I smiled a chilling smile. “Now you know…”

The Doctor’s face looked very pale.

Of course, the Master and the Doctor would have to have the same usual dialog of savior-villain theme again. So, I let them have their moment.

“What did you do to Yaz?” The Doctor demanded.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” The Master said.

“Yaz, are you okay?” The Doctor asked.

“I think so.” Yaz replied.

The Doctor then proceeds to threaten us but was stopped when she saw me put a hand over Yaz’s neck.

“Let us leave and you can have her back.” I said.

The Doctor frowned. “You know I don’t take kindly to a threat.”

“And I don’t take kindly to people who imprison me!!” I yelled angrily. “Don’t test me!” I turned to the Master who is glancing at me curiously. “I just want to go home. I’m done with her and this universe.”

The Master nodded, for once acknowledging my wish. “Your wish is my command.” She raised a hand toward me.

I pushed Yaz hard toward the Doctor. The Doctor was barely able to catch her. I walked toward the Master as I rose to reach for her hand.

The Master and I disappeared with her vortex manipulator.

7777

They are now inside the Master’s tardis in space.

The Master put her forehead over mine. “I’m sorry that I took so long, my dear.”

“I’m just glad that you found me.” I said with a watery smile.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” She whispered softly

“Well, truthfully…”

The Master pulled away from me. “Don’t ruin the moment.” She said.

I laughed. “You did it first.”

“You did smell bad before.”

“Now who is ruining the moment?”

7777

“The Doctor, she said, this power I have, it was what causing me so much anger, a side effect of the experiment? Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Does it matter?”

I pondered over it. “Not really. I don’t regret it. This power, it was what led me to you.”

“Oh, stop it; next, you are going to break into a song.”

7777

And they returned back to their original universe where the wrath of Galifrey descends upon them, leading the army to squash down the suspected hybrid before they ever think to set foot into Gallifrey.

The Master lost her only companion that day. She was taken and imprisoned within Gallifrey where she eventually hack her way out and found out the truth of the Timeless Child. She is the Timeless Child.

In a fit of rage, she destroyed Gallifrey.

A/N2: I love Florence and the machine; I listen to Cosmic Love on a loop while writing this.

Originally, I planned to make the Master and Reader stay a while in 13th Doctor’s universe causing chaos. 13th Doctor would eventually defeat the Master and tricked the Reader by pretending to be the Master.

But the Reader would recognize her as the Doctor through how she kissed her. Because the Master is complicated person and although she does love the Reader, she also hates her that every time they kissed, she would give her psychic message in her mind about how much she hates the reader for making her weak.

I decided not to write this because I kind of feeling like the reader is tired and just want to go home and hopefully cuddle with her beloved? Though that bit with the reader’s death come so suddenly. I wanted to end it with fluff but somehow it ended with the timeless child fiasco.

Well, that’s it folk. Hope you love this fic. I know it is far from perfect but I’m just going to say that I’m evil that’s why I posted this regardless whether anyone actually bother reading this fic.

#13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #whittaker!master x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #thirteenth doctor imagine #whittaker!master #dhawan!doctor #shiefenwrites

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