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morganas-pendragons · 2 years

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Halo Episode 7

Because this one single gif is ten times more interesting then the entirety of Episode 7. I absolutely went way too honest on this one about how I feel in regards to Soren and Kwan. If you like/love them, I don't recommend reading this. Spoilers under the cut!

Kwan cannot carry an episode on her own. She's meant to be a supporting character, not a main, and I have absolutely zero interest in her or Soren.

she's a teenager who lost everything. "rage is all i have left.'' and i totally get it, i do. there's just nothing endearing about this plot. it's not interesting. it doesn't draw you in.

her actress is super talented but.. the insurrection plot.. just bores me

i don't hate her. she just... definitely isn't a character i'm interested in

Speaking of Soren -- like.. I get he's from the legends but I do not care about him either.... his son is so cute and i love his wife but soren just does not do it for me..

also these are first impressions so don't be surprised if something changes halfway down this list

one of the things this show does super well is the cinematography

like holy crap dude

how on EARTH did Soren get back to the Rubble?!

i would've rather had an entire episode about soren's origins in the spartan program and how his relationship with john started

i do however find it super interesting that once kwan enters that dream like state, the person she sees is john

John and Reth, both who have been affected by the Covenant and are the complete antithesis of everything she's been raised to believe

WHO PUTS A TEENAGE GIRL AGAINST A SPARTAN THREE DECADES OLDER THEN HER?

Not to mention who's been augmented and has armor made from titanium alloy?

the little details of kwan changing weapons every time she wakes up is a fascinating addition

and the way they wait until she finally gives up to show john's face?

important details

pablo literally doesn't have to say a word, his presene just carries so much weight

the music in this episode is fantastic

THE WAY THAT KWAN SEES HER ENTIRE FAMILY LINE IN FRONT OF HER? AND HER FATHER? THE WAY THEY ALL DISAPPEAR INTO THE NEXT?

that detail was so cool!!

frick there's still thirty minutes left

mmm a portal that doesn't have a recognized destination i wonder where it leads

won't be surprised if it leads to halo lol

vinsher... vinsher. ugh.

i hate him too

if i'm right on this someone needs to give me a pat on the back -- but i am 100% convinced between what john and kwan have learned, they're gonna help the other get to halo

Soren's dedication to John is so sweet

you people really are stupid enough to think you can take on an ex spartan aren't you

okay i don't know about the rest of you but people who throw knives that accurately and with that much finesse?

hot

also for those of you who don't know, soren in the legends is certifiably insane and is very similar to this one. If you wanna look him up -- here he is!

THE PLASMA GRENADE FINALLY MAKES AN ENTRANCE

MY JAW DROPPED THAT WAS A POWER MOVE KID!!

oh she founds john's gun

which is three times the size of her

i never realized how big these guns are compared to civilians!

vinsher got the death he deserves!!! whoo!!!!!!

i definitely believe soren john and kwan are going to come back together at some point because of how many times ''we'll see each other again'' was said in regards to all three of them

oh she kept john's gun *cries quietly*

okay overall this gets a 6/10

it wasn't bad, definitely picked up toward the end, but i feel there are a number of ways they could've done this better

#show: Halo #halo spoilers #halo paramount #halo series #halo tv show #halo show

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queenjanai · 4 years

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23 of the prompts for janaya

23. We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

Between all the fighting, the strategizing, the constant smoke rising to the clouds, and the blazing heat of the Breach, penetrating through the thickest of bricks in the fortress castle, Amaya hasn't had many spare moments to appreciate the night. There was always something to be done, some report to read, some wary of another attack.

She comes to the understanding she never had enough time to apperciate anything besides a warm bath- that became a tedious routine to have when you remain at the same place for months- and a good meal, as good as it can be without a proper kitchen. Her nephews were always a blessing to see, but when did she have a genuine moment to breathe?

The grass sways against her stretched arms, sneaking between her opened fingers. There's a coldness to it, not dampness as she initially thought, and she doesn't care how it might stain her clothes. A gentle breeze brushes her hair, making the loose parts of her clothing waver. Better some grass than smoke and lava.

The night sky is stunning above her, a thousand stars decorating the dark infinite surface like tiny shinning spots. The moon is almost at its fullest, a soft halo hovering it. Thin clouds float with each gust of wind, slowly moving along the sky.

Perhaps the serenity of peace has overtaken her, making her soft, or maybe after a decade of being clad in armor she decided that she earned a break, and she stole Janai away from the kingdom to the Banther Lodge, the closet place that is both secured and secluded. It has been four moons since the queen brought back the light to Lux Aurea, though that if Janai could read her thoughts she would tell her not to call her queen, and that they purified the Sunforge together. Blush would mask her face in a bright hue, because that day not only remarks the return of the light to Lux Aurea, it's the day of their first kiss as well.

As calm as she is, her queen seems to be in a complete opposite state. Amaya tilts her head, the grass tickling her cheek, and watches Janai as she stares at the sky. Her hands are held in front of her, a worried frown forming a crease between her brows. The back side of her tunic falls to her knees, and the collar of it rises to her neck. She squints in dismay, as if the presence of the moon bothers her.

Amaya rolls to her side and nudges her dear partner until she gains her attention. "What's wrong?" She asks.

Janai only sighs and looks at her, an uncertain twist in her mouth that Amaya recognizes as her way to hint she doesn't want to burden her, but Amaya lifts herself to sit crossed legged and pats on the ground.

Janai rises to be in the same position as her, her face so fallen, written with worry, and Amaya reaches to slide her hand on her cheek until she cups it. Janai takes her hand before she releases it to sign, as if Amaya's touch coaxed her to speak. "How can I be a good queen?" She asks, her face glimming in the moonlight. "I am crowned, but that's not enough. I know nothing of politics, I was not made for this."

Amaya's heart clutches with sadness that Janai's doubts have not ceased. She hoped that the support of her advisors would soothe her, if her own wasn't enough. "You are a good queen. You brought the light back, the people love and trust you, and you will rule with just and understanding."

Janai shakes her head in response. "I was not born into this, Khessa was. She learned courtesies and tactics and attended our grandmother's meetings. She ruled with no patience, and it protected our people. I don't know how to do that."

Amaya knows that feeling too well, remembers it from countless nights with Sarai. "My sister thought the same about herself. We were not royalty before she married King Harrow. She walked into court, blind, but with faith in herself, and learned slowly, but she learned." She inches closer to Janai, and prays that her hands convey what her voice cannot. "You didn't become the leader of your people out of nothing. You're the bravest warrior I've ever seen, you're honorable and fearless, and you care about your kingdom more than anything." Janai's expression softens the more Amaya signs, and a faint blush blooms on her face. "You're bright, and good, and capable, and please, don't doubt yourself because you're a fucking good queen," she draws her hand from behind her ear in a sharp move, and Janai laughs at the cuss.

Amaya grins at the sight of her smiling, and takes both of her hands. "And I'll be by your side as long as you'll want me."

Janai inclines her head, the blush refusing to dissolve. "Thank you," she says. "And for what it's worth," her hand slips into hers, and Janai gazes at the faded scars on the inside of Amaya's palm, stroking them with her thumb. "I'll always want you."

A burst of wind sends her hair away from her face, cooling the warmth on her cheeks, and Amaya laces their fingers together before she leans to kiss Janai's lips.

send me a number! now on ao3

#the song for this one is smoke and mirrors by imagine dragons #thank youuu #answered #softer world #the dragon prince #janaya #janai #amaya

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fan-art-ic · 5 years

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THE PRINCIPLES OF BEING AN UNTETHERED ZEALOT by @fan-art-ic

[id under cut]

THE PRINCIPLES OF BEING AN UNTETHERED ZEALOT

if you stopped telling people it's all sorted out after they're dead,

they might try sorting it all out while they're alive.

I grew up in a small room with white walls and grey floors, with plastic tables where I sat, making a cross from craft foam and a glue stick. An older lady named Mrs. K, or Ms. Z would tell the room about a man named Jesus, who died for our seven-year old sins of lying —about if we brushed our teeth— stealing —a french fry off a plate, and cheating —at monopoly.

I grew up in church after church after church, in car rides ten twenty and eighty minutes long, told that something holy exists, and how my mom may have cried out in pain as my head crowned, but there was a man in the sky who created me. I learned to recite words of punishment, the same words that the angels spoke at gomorrah, to earn pieces of candy and pocket-toys.

Until I was ten, I went to church. Then the bed called louder in the early morning hours, so I never went to Sunday school again. For over half of my life, I was told there was something righteous in the air, and something revenant in the water, and if I pried open my feral child heart to let the Lord in, I would not be damned, tortured, and abandoned to eternal agony in death.

II.

I’m not sure exactly, of how to explain this: I don’t believe in God, I believe in GOD in People. I believe in the pain of kneeling before something Bigger. I believe in how sunlight burns my skin like a cherub’s sword. I believe in the community of Same Heart and Faith. I believe in how hair glows like a halo under streetlights. I believe in the ineffability and complexity of a Humanity.

Does this make sense?

Does you witness the way my heart is bruised before you?

The LORD is my SHEPHERD, I shall not want— but I shall need and do need. I need so desperately. I own a gaping, aching need to fill myself with a Truth, a Truth that’s been left unfilled but created from hours of study, hunched over silk-thin paper and imprinting into my child mind the grief of Mary, the faith of Abraham, and the belief of Paul.

I ask myself —the hole asks itself— what about the tragedy of Emmanuel? Carpenter, friend, son, and Son? Whispered to by a man who called Himself “Father”, who ordered young Emmanuel to bleed and strip himself —hanging bone-splintered above his mother and city— humble to save his neighbors, his heroes, his mother and father?

I ask myself —the hole asks itself— what about the tragedy of Job? Faithful, beautiful Job, ever servant to his God, and suffered endlessly and countlessly as a test of his belief. His children dead and friends’ backs turned on him —blaming words like knives under his shoulder blade— now a man with nothing, toyed with by his God, who already knew Job would remain to any length in His name.

I ask myself —the hole asks itself— what about the tragedy of Lucifer? God’s right-hand, most beloved as all? Wings that glimmered and made sinless —for sin was not yet invented— angels shiny with awe? Lucifer Morningstar, named so for being full of light, bright and beautiful as the dawning sun painting color across the brand new sky, who God designed to have the tint of pride, to have thoughts God would not like, and who was destined to burn from curiosity into something dark, twisted, ashen, disturbed?

I cannot believe in God, for He would take my belief and grasp it with both hands and twist and yank and distort me into another story for a seven-year old child to be told in a room with white walls and grey floors.

III.

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines religious as: ‘relating to or manifesting faithful devotion to an acknowledged ultimate reality or deity // a religious person // religious attitudes 2 : of, relating to, or devoted to religious beliefs or observances //joined a religious order 3a : scrupulously and conscientiously faithful b : FERVENT, ZEALOUS’

I have faithful devotion to: -Doodling on tests and quizzes and legal documents -Staying up late to read yet another chapter -Finishing shows (unless I get bored mid-episode in which I never finish it) -A love of cats -Respecting my mother -Disrespecting my father (subtly though, I don’t want to get smacked again) -Writing bad poetry -Writing half-bad prose -Ordering the same food every time (because experience has taught me that the familiar is better)

I wouldn’t call myself [SCRUPULOUS] or [CONSCIENTIOUS], but I will accept, defend, and fight for [b: FERVENT, ZEALOUS]. I am this quiet, barren thing, dull as the metal hull of Oppenheimer’s pride. In my third eye I am Powerful and Strong and Shiny new like the metal glint of a knight with armor polished, my sword strung at the hip.

My child heart rests dormant in my chest and feral in my memories. Memories of bashing a head against a church floor, of a heady violent form taking hold of my dirty, grubby fingers.

IV.

The LORD became God when Man forgot to write about how the LORD wept for his Children on the Eighth Day.

I haven’t touched the ground today. I was too busy noticing the angels who sat on the park bench talking about deadlines and soul quotas. The same cigarette touched their not-lips and the one with muddy shoes flicked the doggend onto the sidewalk, grinding it into ash with his heel.

I heard one say that love isn’t Love —I could hear the capital in his voice— and the other snorted, a strange trill echoing from his inhuman fleshy throat. “What’s the difference, then?” he asked. “love is a service, a loan with one-hundred-and-ten interest.” My toes brushed the dirt and the first angel kept talking: “Love is a selfish act mangled and chewed and torn, it hurts worse than a Fall and is worth more than Grace.”

“I don’t get it, both sound fucking awful,” the other angel said.

“It’s called free will.”

They began a new cigarette and I started to walk again. I think I learned something there, in the park, near those angels. I think I saw the ash grey halos and heard human things for ethereal beings, and understood how the wine-dark of the sea crashes so brutally over the cliffs, drawing artists and writers to its beat, begging to be seen in its violent shores.

VI.

When I was twelve, I tried to touch God. I rode in tense silence, ten minutes there, ten minutes back, to a youth group at a big, white church that had a parking lot so big, I would collapse racing kids one end to the other. I stood in the gym where other twelve-year olds threw footballs and frisbees and free advice, before the pastor would give God’s advice after we all stood for five songs of worship to God, blessing him for shelter, food, water, life, for the absence of pain and presence of joy.

My feet ached and my baby soul hurt, wretched from the inability to embrace the Word of God from the mouths of people who preached kindness and then placed me in groups of kids during activities, where I became a specter: a disheveled, nail-chewing, hair band-snapping, too-solid ghost.

I abandoned church at age sixteen. I tried to find God in the evergreens and mountain air and streaking skies. When my counselor asked if everyone in the tent believed in God, I said maybe. I wanted to be honest and brave, knighted in Truth. What I got was an interrogation, a smiting on those wooded hidden paths, with commands of faith poured down my gasping throat and my pinched nose.

God is the name of justification, and I could not find Him for my own Justice.

VII.

When I was a child, I was told of a resolution, solution, dissolution of all worries, fears, trappings of the human sickness. I was told of Something not greater, but Bigger then my whole world —granted, a seven-year old’s world is the size of an oyster, with them as the pearl— that dealt in a hand of cards with each suit a different type of miracle. My mind was imprinted on with the imagery, the shining glory, of angels and wings and chariots, who swept man off his feet to spit Words of Truth, handpiece to God and examples to look up to —but no one ever mentioned how Moses was buried in the sand.

The neural pathways for divine faith have been ordered, constructed, red ribbon cut, all for no crowd to show up. I have an illness that requires an intervention of a LORD on HIGH, but all I have are the echoes of a Man’s God being read to a group of children in a white room with grey floors.

#poetry #religious poetry #queer poets on tumblr #my writing #religious poem #so uh. here's this i suppose #the formatting is a lil wonky but hopefully not too wonky for it to be problem

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empresskatariah · 7 years

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#some experimental writing for the disney crossover thing eheh

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metryingtobeme · 7 years

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Journal Day One:

* JM is still wrapped in the blanket on the couch with Missy. She woke up early but did get a good nights sleep. She does not want to wake Missy so she decides to start her journal now. She decided to keep a journal to help manage how she is feeling and to keep track of everyone who needs help. She pulls out her red notebook with angel wings on it and her pin and starts writing*

Day One:

Well I am home. I still do not feel well and probably should have stayed at least one more night with my family but I needed to get home. I missed Missy and I knew being gone worried them. I was worried that mean anons were telling them that I was not coming back like last time. They did not say anything about that when I arrived yesterday but they also may not have wanted to worry me. I am still terrified that Missy will try to run again. My heart shattered when I thought I lost them. Missy is just to important to me to lose. I will protect them with everything I have including my life. I just hope I can do a better job than I did last time.

I saw Shy. I cannot even write about Shy right now.

I saw Alexander and he put me on the sidelines. I HATE HATE the sidelines. Alexander knows how much I hate not helping so if he tells me to be on the sidelines I may need to listen.

The problem is so many need help. That is part of what draws me here is I feel I can help. If they will let me. Why won’t they let me help? Why won’t they let me listen? I try talking to them. I try listening. I don’t understand. I know many of them have been so traumatized that talking about what they went through is next to impossible. I don’t need the details but talking helps.

I should know. I wish someone would talk to me. Shy is the only one who has actually asked me about me. I told some of them about Halo but my story is not important to the family. I am friends with them all but none are close except Missy. And I refuse to burden them with my past or my struggles. They have enough they deal with and me leaving did not help so with Missy my issues remain my issues

I see the friendships they have. I see the way they interact. It may be a nightmare that binds their story but they have each other. They have an understanding of each other. They have a bond that I will never have with any of them. I see how they rise to protect each other. I see how they protect Shy when someone comes along that she does not like. Would they care if something like that happened to me?

And now love and flirting seems to be everywhere. What did I come back to? Heart? Darkness? Solar? And this new person who literally fell into Alexander’s room last night. What is going on?

I am having a new feeling I never felt before. I am not 100% sure what it is called but it is the emotion where I want what they have. What they all have. The friendships, the bond with the family, the bond with each other. I feel that I have friends but I am just here. Just existing. I know this feeling. This feeling is awful. This feeling is sadness and loneliness.

OK Shine…get yourself together. Stop whatever this new feeling is because you have work to do.

I told Armor I would take it easy. I told Missy and Alexander I would sleep, which I did get good sleep last night. But I have too much to do to be on the sidelines. Sorry Alexander.

The first thing I need to do is find Eva. I have not seen her since she left with Tailor and now an anon told me this morning that someone from her past is here and she is not happy. Eva is becoming a very good friend and if she is hurting I want to protect her from that.

I need to see if I can find Winter. When she came to me and told me that she was leaving my heart fell apart. I was hoping I would be able to help her to learn to trust again. That maybe she could become part of this family. A family that would take care of her and protect her instead of hurting her. Something was off about her when she came to me. Was that even Winter? And the messenger that came. Who was that? I have to find Winter.

And Fallen. Someone mentioned Fallen is kidnapped. I will start trying to find Fallen as soon as possible.

I need to see Imaj at some time today. I promised a movie PJ night when I got back. I love movie nights with Imaj. His laughter is contagious. Wonder what movie he will pick?

At some point I want to check on Anxiety. I know he hates me and I don’t blame him because I could not protect shy. I hate myself for that as well. But I am worried about him. Killing mother could not have been easy even through it was mother. With Shy being gone and now back and missy running away…well I just want to see if he is okay. Hopefully he will not yell at me too much.

And Mint. I promised Jest I would take care of Mint. Great job I am doing at that with leaving. I need to find Mint. Hopefully that M/A wore off and Mint is back to their age.

And speaking of Jest who reminds me of Soul. I need to figure out what this betrayal is from Soul. I am terrified of what Soul has done and how it will hurt this family. I have to find a way to stop it.

I hope keeping this journal helps keep my emotions under control and I hope that no one finds it… ever. I would be so embarrassed.

I cannot let them know how I feel. I know Missy cares but Missy is all I have. I was hoping Eva and I could become closer friends but with someone from her past here now she will go to them instead of me when she needs help.

I have to pretend that I think they care. I have to act like I think they think I am important and part of the family, even when I know I am just here to heal and make sure they eat. I have to make them think that I am okay when I am so not okay.

@blackhearteva @shy---anon @calm-anon @heartt-anonymous @mint-anon @mazy-anon @imasmallchild @fluffbird @fallen-anon @darkness-anon @agent-upsilon21 @winter-anon @chaoticgood-anon @marty-the-anon @andy-the-anon @soul-anon @jest-anon

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