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darthkvznblogs · 3 years

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From His Vantage Upon the Moon #1

Thor, Doctor Strange, and the Olympians

(MCU x Percy Jackson and the Olympians x Supergiant Games' Hades)

It's rather bad form for a visiting god not to check in with the local deities; Thor's already missed two visits, so he really oughta visit Mount Olympus - though in his defense, being cast out by Odin really shouldn't count. Fortunately, Doctor Strange is willing to play mediator between the typically fickle pantheons.

(From His Vantage upon the Moon is a collection of one-shot stories set in the Kryptonverse, an MCU based crossover universe including over 16 franchises so far. You can find the original work here, but I'll also be posting each short story here on Tumblr, too! If you like what I do, and would like to support me, you can find me on Ko-fi!)

“Are you entirely certain you wish to accompany me, Sorcerer?” –Thor asks, raising an eyebrow as they stand just outside the Empire State Building. Despite the fact that they’re in street clothes, Thor’s outrageously chiseled physique keeps drawing quite a few lascivious gazes, much to Stephen’s chagrin.

“Were it truly up to me, I’d be happy to let you make a fool of yourself.” –he drawls. “My duties, however, require me to mediate your reunion.”

Thor hums. “I don’t recall requiring a mediator during my last visit.” –he grouses. “The Lords of Olympus were quite amenable to our brief presence on Midgard back then.”

“That was then, and this is now. Earth has changed quite a bit in your absence.” –Strange argues. “The Olympians and their demigod children, in particular, have suffered through quite a bit of turmoil in the past few decades – particularly so in the last five years. Compounded with the thinning of the Mist, they’re bound to be wary of anyone outside their immediate circle of trust. Even if you were a friend.”

“Ah. I see.” –Thor mutters. “Strange, is it not? Their own troubles, Loki’s betrayal and the bandit rampage throughout the Nine Realms...we’ve had centuries of peace, and now this. So much has happened in so little time.”

Strange sighs. “I’m afraid this could just be the beginning. But this isn’t the time for that.” –he says. “Let’s hurry along. You have an invasion to repel.”

The god and the sorcerer walk into the building. A security guard stands beside the elevator – less a person and more a magical security measure meant to dissuade mortals (and even some demigods) from entering the gods’ abode. The guard recognizes Strange, though, and merely waves him into the elevator – though not before shooting Thor a vaguely hostile look.

“Odd custom, this.” –Thor notes, as Strange punches in their destination – floor 600. “Moving their home around so often – seems rather a hassle. What’s wrong with the original Mount Olympus?”

“The Olympians like to chase the most powerful nations around, eager for worship as they are. Right now, America’s at the top of the food chain.” –Strange retorts. “Though I hear they’re considering moving back to Greece as part of their big PR strategy. This part of the world is getting rather crowded, rather fast – and Greece could certainlyuse the tourism it’d bring, once they reveal themselves to the world.”

“I remember their strange worship-sustenance, yes.” –Thor recalls as he raises an eyebrow. “Have the mortals truly forgotten us?”

Strange shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Your kind may have become myths, but we still retell them in many forms. That being said, very few people believe in the gods – and I’m not entirely certain that they think of you as you truly are. You and your kin, in particular, have drawn some rather nastyfollowers in the past century or so.”

Thor winces. “Jane mentioned as much, during my brief stay. Something about ‘perfect Arian men’.” –he mutters, disheartened. “Hatred and fear twist the minds of gods and mortals alike. Such it has been as long as I’ve lived.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. It’s up to us to set the record straight.” –Stephen says.

Thor nods as the elevator dings, opening to the golden gates and pristine marble of Olympus. “Aye, that we are.”

The duo make their way forth, magically changing into their mystical regalia. Lesser gods and nature spirits look on in surprise and curiosity as Thor cheerfully greets them, giggling nymphs and naiads huddling into gossiping circles. The throne room sits atop a small cliff, like the Parthenon in Athens, overlooking the entire realm and the hazy mortal world, barely visible below.

When they enter, Strange can’t help but be surprised; it’s been maybe a month since he was last on Olympus, and yet he can barely recognize the figures sat on each of the thirteen thrones, each of them at least thirty feet tall – the only exception being the hooded figure of Hestia, placidly sat within the flames of the hearth in the middle of the room.

“Venerable Lords and Ladies of Olympus.” –Stephen half bows. “The Mighty Thor, Firstborn of Odin, God of Thunder, Strength, and Fertility, would request an audience of you.”

The god at the head of the Pantheon leans forward. King Zeus looks very different – his skin is a few shades darker than Strange remembers, closer to the olive tones of the Greek, and his more or less sensible black hair and beard have dramatically changed to become cloud-like in appearance, billowing in the ever-present wind of the divine mountaintop. Gone, too, is his perfectly tailored suit – he is clad in a golden toga, accented in white, and a plethora of rings adorn his hands, one of which casually holds the Master Bolt. A crown of stylized lightning sits atop his head. “Master Sorcerer.” –he greets, his voice booming like distant thunder. “And the Lord Thor. Welcome to Olympus.”

“Do forgive the lack of appropriate fanfare in your reception.” –Queen Hera says, beside him, snow-white robes adorned with a golden belt and peacock feathers, sprouting like a corona behind her head. “Dragging our family together for such an impromptu visit proved a more difficult endeavor than we anticipated.”

The thirteenth god scoffs, at Zeus’ left. Lord Hades crosses his arms, ashen-skinned, bushy-bearded, and much more muscular than Strange remembers him – perhaps the most visually different of them all. A crown of burning laurels, matching his flaming feet, compliments his blood-colored chiton, and precious stones of all kinds adorn his hands and arms. “Then perhaps you should have done with the few of you who were already present, Sister Hera. Blood and Darkness, but this is a waste of my time.” –he curses, leering at their guests with black and red eyes. “Curse the day your spawn so nobly decided to include me in these affairs, Poseidon.”

Poseidon, at least, Stephen recognizes. Physically, Percy’s father looks the same as before, for some reason – even though his clothes have also regressed to what must’ve been his ancient looks. He smirks at his older brother. “We won’t keep you from your lovely family for long, Brother.” –he says, trying to placate the wrathful Lord of the Underworld. “But this is important.”

“Loathe as I am to agree with Lord Poseidon, rekindling our bonds with King Odin and his kin upon Asgard is paramount among our short-term priorities, Lord Hades.” –Athena grudgingly admits. Hades scoffs, sulking back into his throne. The virgin Goddess of Wisdom and War turns to Thor. “And I sense Lord Thor is eager to make amends for his unannounced visit and battle, earlier this year.”

Thor grins. “Indeed, Lady Athena. Though the mortals bid us worship once, Asgard recognizes Olympus’ sovereignty upon Midgard. King Odin sends his regards – and his firstborn, to aid in the protection of your world in whatever way you deem necessary.” –he says.

Zeus and Hades share a knowing look that has Strange wincing internally – they must know something about Thor that the Asgardian himself doesn’t. “There is no transgression to apologize for. And you’re allowed free transit in our domains, fellow Thunderer.” –Zeus declares, amiably enough. “Though grateful for the All-Father’s offer, we do not hold you to our service. You’ve decided to shoulder enoughresponsibilities to humanity already.”

“Your brother, I assume he is no longer a threat?” –Athena asks, narrowing her stormy grey eyes.

Thor’s smile falters. “No, he isn’t. I come fresh off his sentencing – he will live out his many, many days in our dungeons. This, I feel, does require an apology.”

“Family is a difficult matter at the best of times, Thor.” –Lady Demeter says, glaring coldly at the King of Olympus. “You have our condolences for Loki’s turn to madness.”

“Thank you, Lady Demeter.” –Thor bows. Stephen worries, despite himself, at the hint of pain in his voice.

“Madness or not, I envied your ability to challenge it alongside the mortal champions, unbound by our ancient laws as you are. Will you go join them now, in the bloodshed about to unfurl?” –Ares wonders, blood-red irises keen to see the Asgardian in action.

Thor nods curtly, his jaw set. “Indeed, Lord Ares. I do not mean to cut our meeting short, but I must aid my brothers and sisters in battle.”

“Oh, how boring.” –Aphrodite laments. Hers is the most eye-turning makeover of all – if only because she’s fully nude, pink-skinned as the day she rose from Ouranos’...remains. Only her flowing, rosy Godiva hair allows her any modesty – and even then, it’s tremendously inconsistent. Intentionally, Strange must assume. “It’s all doing battle with you warrior types. Here I thought you’d come back to see that pretty little mortal you fancied.”

Thor clears his throat. “That, uh...that is a bonus, yes.” –he admits. “But protecting the world takes priority.”

Zeus nods, approvingly – a little bit hypocritically, Strange feels, considering how hands-off the Olympians can be. “So it does, Odinson. Go with our blessing – and do join us for a spot of Nectar and Ambrosia soon. We have a few thousand years of history to catch up on, after all.”

#from his vantage upon the moon #kryptonverse #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover #hades game #percy jackson #pjo series #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #thor #doctor strange #ko fi link #ko fi

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 4 years

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The Star Damned Itself: A Critical Role Fanfic

My fic for Day 2 of @essek-week I chose the prompt, Loneliness because of course I did. I don’t usually lean heavy into angst but you know, sometimes you just gotta. This one is a more character study/gen fic.

Trigger warnings: Definite dysfunctional family dynamics//gaslighting//mentions of abuse//crisis of faith

Read the collection on AO3

Maybe there hadn’t been a singular moment. Maybe there had been a thousand cracks, a thousand fissures, and a thousand dislocations. Maybe Essek had never been whole at all. Perhaps Essek Theylss was just a collection of broken shards gathered into a body he had to justify was his.

Was there a moment?

Essek sometimes struggled with that thought. Had there been a moment when everything went wrong? When he realized that he was better off alone? He could conjure a thousand memories to mind. A quiet hallway, the corner of the library where he hid from a party between the shelf and the wall, the sharp pain of a rap on his knuckles that split and bled, the twist of a pinch in the classroom. When had it been? Could it be the day he heard his father hissing to some distant aunt about his inability to listen? Was it the moment he passed his sixteenth birthday and his mother’s lip turned up in a sneer because Essek was just Essek and there was no long dead great living in his body? When he had raised a fork to his lips and realized that food had no flavor? Had it been something earlier? When?

Maybe it was this: hacking his hair off in the bathroom the day his heart was broken and swearing never to do it again.

Or this: a beacon traded hands in the darkness.

Or this:

“People don’t love broken things. Oh stop that, everything is replaceable,” his mother had sighed, with little remorse as she threw the cracked porcelain bowl at a servant. Essek had so often admired it, wondered at the beautiful flowers painted along the edge and the silver rim. She had wanted him to make it float to prove his lessons weren’t a waste of her time, and Essek had made it do so despite the fact he was too young to do it. But he had done it, and had done well and Essek could tell his mother was almost proud of him--until his sister purposefully slammed a door close and startled him. The bowl went tumbling from the air and crashed onto the floor...destroying him completely.

The bowl had been bought a long time ago, brought from the Menagerie Coast and settled in the corner to gather dust and be a relic of the den’s wealth. They had it because they could afford expensive things, not because it fit anywhere. In Essek’s eight year old imagination it took on some sort of legend. He had pestered his science tutor about those flowers, who had listed off their names with a put-out tone. Cornflowers and marigolds, larkspur and chicory. There were almost no flowers native to Rosohna anymore (the endless night had robbed them of that) but that bowl showed Essek that there was a world outside of his father’s grimaces and his mother’s disapproval, and it was a place he could go one day. It became a little song he sang in his head on those long days. On the days when his mother had no patience and his father had even less and everyone was fed up with him again and again because he wasn’t perfect yet and his mind spun the tune: cornflowers and marigolds, larkspur and chicory, Empire, Rosohna, Tal’dorei, Menagerie.

People don’t love broken things. Everything is replaceable. Hissed his mother’s voice and his father’s voice as he stared at the closing door. It overtook that childish rhyme and became something deeply engraved in his heart.

Essek wondered if that was the moment when he realized that she was talking about him.

Or this:

“Oh Luxon, holiest of lights, bless this child with eyes that can see past the marauding darkness and turn him towards the light,” the Luxon cleric said as he dabbed oil on Essek’s forehead. Essek looked at his family seated at attention in the rows, and felt his mother’s gaze digging into him. He turned and stared at the beacon...and just saw it. Incense swirled in the air--puffs of smoke caught on the strobing lights. There was just light. He couldn’t feel anything.

What were they all feeling? Essek wondered as panic slicked his insides and broke goosebumps across his skin. Why? Why couldn’t Essek see whatever they saw? Why couldn’t he feel what they felt? He had done everything right, studied the ritual down to the last detail, but he could feel nothing. He just wanted someone to tell him what he was doing wrong...someone to comfort him. Somehow the wanting made it all the worse. His tutors had told him that though the stars looked close together, they were really an unquantifiable distance apart. And in that moment he realized that was him, gazing into the light of a star, adrift in the vastness of the heavens alone. He was surrounded by people--always, always being watched, but he was so alone. No one loved a broken thing like him, not even the Luxon--but what if--what if--?

Don’t leave me alone, Essek begged the star.

The star damned itself, and gave him no answer.

______________________

As Shadowhand, he was given a certain number of perks. One of them was real estate--a home to be exact. When he received the title to his new home, he had nearly balked at the audacity of being able to live alone in a world that was defined by your den, but then became overwhelmingly excited. In fact, he clutched the deed to the land with a shaking hand hidden by a long sleeve and refused to let it go for the first two hours of having it.

When he finally came back to his family’s ancestral home to pack his most important things and to send for the rest, his mother was not impressed.

“Why would you move?” she demanded of him, as the servants helped to fill his trunks. The servants stopped at the sound of her displeasure, but with a look at Essek they continued.

“Mother, we already spoke about this,” Essek said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have already accepted, and have put down the money--my money to be clear, for the upkeep. I understand you are not pleased but it is already--”

“We have not spoken about this,” she said haughtily, smoothing her hands on her red dress as if she could make Essek see the reason in her position. Essek saw none.

“Did you think when we were talking about this last week, and then three days ago, and then yesterday, that this was all--what? Hypothetical?” Essek asked, his annoyance becoming obvious in spite of his best attempts. “If that isn’t the case then you have a very selective memory, Mother.”

He was being far too petty, that was exceedingly obvious. Essek was doing himself no favors, in fact, what he should have been doing was being pleasant and considerate and polite. Mother preferred that version of him, the son that did nothing but exist solely to further her every last ambition. It was too hasty, showing the self he kept private just like his mother wanted. No one liked this Essek, not that this Essek had anyone he would care enough about to care. The eagerness he felt at the idea of being alone without his family constantly breathing down his neck was intoxicating and it was making him something he was loath to admit: bold. And his mother noticed because of course she did, and her skin took on a lavender flush of fury.

“It simply doesn’t make any sense. We can take that residence and do something useful with it, give it to a branch of the family. A single man has no reason to have a whole estate for himself, it’s just wasteful. Especially considering--”

“Considering what?” Essek demanded, cutting her off. The servants at this point grabbed the trunks and escaped the room like harpies were descending on them. “Go ahead, Mother. Say it.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic, Essek. We both know you have no desire for a family of your own, don’t make me out to be the villain in this story you tell yourself,” his mother said with a roll of her eyes. Essek was furious now, his blood was boiling under his skin--something ugly and terrible was clawing at his insides attempting to escape, venom was filling up his throat like bitter bile.

“The only thing I don’t have a desire for is being bred like a prized Horizonback tortoise,” Essek hissed before throwing up his hands. “But you know what? You are right. If that’s what having a family is like I would rather be alone, so just let me go. If you ever loved me, even a little bit, you would just let me be.”

“This is not your decision to make,” she warned him. She wanted him to bend--to break. For once, Essek didn’t back down. Instead he stood tall, facing his denmother with a kind of strength he didn’t know he possessed. “The Luxon will not shine on this decision. Your place is here, I am your denmother--your Umavi, and you will respect my will.”

If the Luxon existed and it chose you as the paragon of virtue, then it is a foolish deity, Essek thought.

“I have already made my decision,” is what Essek said before walking out the door.

____________________

One of his mother’s favorite tricks was making Essek feel like he had gone absolutely crazy. When he was around her and when she was talking to him, he often had the acute sense that his mind was slowly being peeled back from its foundations like a soggy old parchment. He would say something--bring up something that had happened in the past, and she would deny it as if it had never happened in such a convincing manner that it left Essek feeling like maybe he had lost his grip on reality. She would tell him they had never argued, or she had never taken away a beloved blanket, or any number of things and Essek would almost believe her every time.

Essek was finding that living alone was better and worse in that regard. Essek didn’t have anyone else making him feel like he was slowly going mad, but instead it was now springing from his mind. His job thankfully kept him on a rather rigorous schedule, but when (if) he returned home to his empty towers time seemed to both slow to a hardening syrup and speed up beyond his control. His trances were made short and abrupt by the sound of the wind and the cold of the stone, with little else to do once he was home he often researched on his projects for hours on end without stopping. He feared the day he retired (maybe, if he was lucky and his treachery wasn’t discovered) because Essek felt he would lose track of time all together.

Not that there was retirement in sight. His new position as Shadowhand barely left him time to breathe, let alone work on the things he wanted to. But things were better. They had to be better than before. Anything was preferable than before.

“This is what I wanted,” Essek reassured himself, as he lay on the floor in his second tower on a rug that had cost enough that he felt that he was entitled to be able to lay on it. “I wanted to be alone.”

Had he? When had he wished that?

The thought stumped him. When? When had being alone become the price he had to pay for his brilliance...for his research...for living? It seemed like it had become as natural as breathing...to be alone. He was suited to loneliness like a bird was to air. After all, whenever he had to speak to someone outside of work he felt like he was slowly withering away into nothing. And yet now he couldn’t even remember the last time he had even spoken honestly with another living being outside his head where all of his conversations went according to his daydreams...and it was suddenly very alarming. The Assembly was useless for that he had found, despite his hopes otherwise, and there was no one in Rosohna he could think to enjoy.

He didn't like to admit it, but he had wanted a kinship with them... at least the mutual respect a fellow researcher deserved. But as always, it never worked out. The Cerberus Assembly was just another collection of old biased fools who worked only to absorb more power and prestige. Of course he would be happy with the research they were doing, and he was learning more. And learning was everything, the truth was the only thing, but even so...

Maybe tomorrow would be different, Essek thought. There was no reason to think so...there would be the meeting with Lythir and the Bright Queen and whatever guests were probably coming from the city of beasts, and then he would be caught up in all sorts of official nonsense. But maybe tomorrow the sting of loneliness wouldn’t be so apparent. Maybe he would be cold hearted enough not to care.

Maybe tomorrow, Essek thought, staring at his ceiling alone. Maybe tomorrow.

#critical role #critical role fanfic #Essek Week #essek thelyss

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rainbhrts94writes · 3 years

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Tephra 02

Hello! Here’s the next thrilling instalment, hope you enjoy the banter as much as I do! :)

POV: YN Warnings: None this chapter, mostly intro stuff Word Count: 2.2K Rating: PG

Master List

Tephra 02

When Imogen told you Prince Namjoon of Atlas had been searching for you in the mage courses by name, you nearly spit out your drink. It's not like you had forgotten about him or anything. Who could forget dimples like that? I mean, really. It was more like you didn't typically associate with people from any of the four kingdoms outside the Min family.

"What do you think he wants?" Imogen asked you over dinner.

"Who knows, it's not like I'm anything special." You grumbled, finishing off the food on your plate.

"You're kidding, right? Did you forget you're the youngest addition to the Academy's guard ever?" Imogen scoffed.

"You should stop bringing that up. The last formal training I had was when I was ten. The fact that anyone thinks I'm qualified is embarrassing." You rolled your eyes.

"So what is all my night time training to you? Chopped liver?" Imogen smiled as she spoke, spinning her fork around in the air. "Besides, who's embarrassed?"

"All of the old cranky ass guards who worked for years to hone their magical skills to defend the Academy from the invisible powers that threaten us all." You said in a mocking spooky tone.

"You're not wrong. Did you see General Karp's face when Lady Cecilia offered to promote you to Captain of the Evening Forces?" Imogen let out a roaring laugh at her memory.

"I'm still saying it had to be a prank. The Headmistress is an air mage by nature. Seriously, we're always out on night rounds. Just because I've caught a few shady individuals lurking around the gate doesn't mean I need to be in charge of my own task force." You poked your fork at your tablemate as you tried to make a point.

"I don't think she was kidding. You're a great mage, YN, and you lead your peers with this weird calm I've only ever seen in TV dramas. Your skills were obvious last month."

"Are you talking about that landslide again?" You asked, exasperated, deciding not to pick fun at her terrible choice in behavioral reference. "For the last time, we didn't do anything special. The royal family of Atlas and friends already had over half the trench built by the time we got there."

"You're right, but there's no way they would have been able to hold that line alone. They also didn't think to make it deeper while it was filling up, did they? That was all you and Tessa." Imogen stated, looking snarky as she sipped on her tea.

"See, the key there is Tessa. You really think I could have blown that much earth around without focusing on projectile boulders if she and the others hadn't been there." You argued back.

"I do. Even then, you proved my point. Teamwork, you got the stuff of leaders, kid." Then she paused. "Wait, YN."

"What?" You looked up at Imogen, concerned with her tone.

"Prince Namjoon mentioned in his report of the situation that he had narrowly escaped a flying boulder!"

"Yea, and?" You pressed her, trying to find out what Imogen was so excited about.

"Was that you or Tessa?" She asked, nearly bouncing in her seat.

"So what if it was me?"

"YN! He's been out looking for you for over a month! What if he feels indebted to you and wants to make you an offer?!" Imogen leaped up out of her seat, slamming her hands on the table. "Something to repay that debt, the people of Atlas hate debt!"

"Don't most people hate debt?" You deadpanned. "Would you stop with the wild fantasies? You're supposed to be my guardian."

"Exactly, I'm your guardian. I told your parents I'd take care of you, and if that means marrying you off to a prince of Atlas, then so be it!" Imogen's voice grew in enthusiasm as she pressed on.

"There are so many reasons why that's not going to work, and you know it. Did my folks know you were clinically insane before they put me in your care? Does the Academy know one of their professors is straight out of the looney bin?" You asked, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Nope, nobody knows I've escaped." Imogen winked. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?"

"Not until I've graduated, I still need that free tuition." You replied, holding in a laugh.

"Is that all I am to you? A ticket to free education!" Imogen put a hand to her chest and feigned hurt as she flopped back in her chair.

"That and my pseudo-mom."

"You're not allowed to get sentimental with me after being rude." Imogen snapped at the comment, a gentle smile on her face.

"Whatever you say." You rolled your eyes and collected your empty plates from the table.

"So, what do you want me to do about the prince?" Imogen asked. "I can only deflect his questions for so long before he sends someone more powerful digging around."

"I don't know." You tipped your head as you put the dishes in the sink. "Find out what he wants first, I guess."

"That I can do," Imogen exclaimed.

---

The school had a strict curfew. It was how they ensured nobody knew about your class and the inner workings of the Academy. Technically, Spiros was a refugee city, despite it's long, illustrious history.

As the story goes, Neith the Great Mother descended from the heavens adapting to the life of human's already present on Sias. Those born of her newfound flesh and blood were known as The Children, and together they shared their knowledge and godlike powers with humanity. As time went on, The Children grew in strength and popularity, each now a god in their own right. With power came struggle, and when they fought, so did the humans who followed them.

The conflict immediately led to a hundred-year war, resulting in the fracturing of the continent and its people. To keep the peace, Neith separated those with magic into four territories and left her home open to all seeking refuge from her children and those who sought to harm them for their perceived powerlessness.

In the years of peace that followed, the Academy was built to educate those who resided in Spiros safely. They brought in people from all walks of life and the different territories to balance out the curriculum. This angered one of The Children, the daughter Opis who with the help o hr followers sought revenge. During the ensuing battle, Neith perished, the four kingdoms established themselves as they are now, and Spiros was taken and divided into sections to be jointly ruled and controlled.

One could say that for the past four hundred years since the end of the original conflict, all the four Kingdoms had fought for was a place to dump the underprivileged, unwanted, and their country's political adversaries. As such, over the years Spiros had developed into an eclectic city, one that you'd always really enjoyed visiting so it wasn’t so bad living here. It was a place heavy in multiple cultures, lifestyles, and most importantly the food.

Your parents had been sure to teach you all about the world when you were little. Spiros, in particular, had always made your dad smile. He had explained to you that nearly eighty years ago, the Adyan Empire was trusted with the duty to appoint a new Headmistress for the Academy. Fortunately, the Royal Min family chose a bishop from The Church of Shango. She was a kind and thoughtful woman who prioritized her students' wellbeing and growth before all else. Not only that, but because of the Adyan Empire's ongoing situation, the Academy's top brass bent the rules to accommodate the common folk of Spiros.

As stated in the peace treaty, refugees and those exiled were not to participate in the use and learning of magic of any kind. You had been told by Imogen years back that the Academy read the laws and decided it didn't mean the children of those who had been exiled, since they were technically born as people of Spiros, instead of refugees of another country. For that reason, the Headmistress decided to educate the commonwealth, leaving magic training until the students of Spiros could be protected by the cover of darkness and away from prying eyes.

When the time came to appoint a new Head, the Arabeillan Alliance chose Lady Cecilia. Not only had she figured out what the previous Headmistress had started all on her own, she found it so delightfully tricky that learning was allowed to continue uninhibited. She also did her best to make sure Spiros students were as trained in magic and combat arts as those from the four nations.

The air mages had always freaked you out. On top of never being able to see their attacks coming, they were capable of a host of inhumane magic that you had to trust they didn't use out of sheer benevolence. For that reason alone, you had joined the guard when Lady Cecilia told you to. Aside from Cecilia's wickedly psychic abilities and her probably having a reason for instating you, you didn't want the air ripped out of your lungs anytime soon, which is precisely how you found yourself here this evening. Staring at the gate, wondering why being on guard duty was so sought after.

Seriously, you could be in class learning, but no; According to Lady Cecilia, there wasn't anything more for you to learn in the courses here. Since you couldn't get her to explain what she meant by that, you did as you were told and stood there. Technically it could be worse; the job could be exciting, which just meant it was unnecessarily dangerous, and you didn't need that, not when there were still things you needed to do.

With curfew having started only a moment ago, you waited in silence, watching the sunset. It was that perfect time of the year where you got a show of sherbet skies just as your shift started. It was excellent and made up for the monotony of your guard duties. Though maybe you shouldn't have been so concentrated on the sky since the door was now slowly creaking open, and you were not ready.

"Halt!" You projected, "Who goes there?"

"Who goes there? What is this? A bad period movie?" You recognize that voice.

"Yoongi, seriously, what are you doing using the main door? There are much better ways to find me, yanno?" You sighed as your friend stepped towards you.

"Oh, I know, but he doesn't." Yoongi gestured to the man now standing behind him. "This the one you're looking for?"

Even though there wasn't a verbal answer, you'd recognize those dimples anywhere. "Long time no see Namjoon."

"Interesting," Yoogi remarked.

"What, he didn't like 'Your Princeliness.'" You shrugged as you relaxed back into your position. "I'm just following orders."

"If you say so." Yoongi snickered as he turned to the second prince of Atlus. "Welp, she's all yours. I'm off."

"You're not going to stay?" Najoon asked.

"No, why? Do I need to?" Yoongi quirked an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

"No! I just- how am I supposed to get back without getting caught?" Namjoon continued his questioning.

"That's my job now, dear. Unless you've got a problem with that?" You wondered aloud.

"No! Gods, why are you both so infuriating. You're clearly capable. I was just curious." Namjoon sighed as he rubbed the wrinkles out of his forehead.

You stifled a laugh as you watched Namjoon work through his frustration. Once it was clear Yoongi had left, you turned your attention away from the door and out towards the town. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I uh, I wanted to say thank you." Namjoon bowed politely to you.

"You've been looking for me for this long just to say thank you?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"You knew I was looking for you?" Namjoon questioned back.

"Not really, just a hunch." You shrugged, trying not to give yourself away. "Yoongi did bring you here, which means you had to be visibly struggling for quite a while."

"That's a fair observation." Namjoon straightened himself out. "How do you know Yoongi, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We're related." You responded.

"That's a terrible joke." Namjoon sighed. "I should not have asked."

"So now that you've asked your more formal question, what do you really want?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm honestly not sure?" Namjoon responded, relaxing against the looming stone wall behind him.

"That's a terrible reason to break curfew and seek out a stranger." You chuckled.

"It is, isn't it?" Namjoon laughed alongside you. "I think I wanted to be friends?"

"You think?" You raised your eyebrows, intrigued. "I'll have you know I'm a great friend. There's not much to think about."

"You shouldn't wink. It's creepy." Namjoon's lips twitched up in amusement.

"Oh? What's this now?" You leaned forward, meeting Namjoon's gaze. "I know nobody in the capital taught you to talk like that."

"You'll find that I'm very well-read." Namjoon puffed out his chest as he boasted.

"Oh my gods, you do need friends." You laughed out loud, not hiding the smile on your face. "Answer me this, though, why me."

"Why not you?" at that, you stuck out your hand.

"Touché"

#Tephra 02 #bts fanfic #BTS au #fantasy au #magic #kim namjoon #min yoongi #reader insert

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tragedybunny · 4 years

Text

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 10

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

Lady Montrose has an old family name, an old family Manor, and an even older idea of how society should function. She also has a vast fortune to put behind her ideas, which is why most of them have flocked here. Of course these days the once great lady is a mere puppet for her grandson, Augustus. It is he who greets the guests and acts as host, a child playing dress-up, pretending to greatness.

“Ah, Grand General, Sir, Grandmother will be most honored.” He’s worse than a mere useless nobility fop, he’s spent so many years in scholarly pursuits, he now believes himself truly intelligent.

His eyes genuinely light up when he greets Kat. “Katarina, it’s been forever, you look lovely.” He takes her hand, kisses it, and lingers entirely too long. There were rumors once about the two of them. I should ask her about it, it could prove useful. “We should talk later, it will be good to catch up.”

We move along, further into the cavernous, ancient hall. “Be careful what you say to him. I don’t trust him or this situation.”

She just shrugs. “You don’t trust anyone.”

“That’s beside the point. And not entirely true. I trust you don’t I?”

She stops, she can’t hide the faint smile on her lips. “Fine, one exception.”

“I mean there’s one or two more, probably.”

“You’re not really making your case any better.” We’ve moved out of earshot of the boy, and she stops to whisper viciously at me. “Do you really think I’m an idiot though? Just look at him, he’d stab his own mother in back. In fact, that may have literally happened. You really think I’d trust him for a second?”

She has a point. “No, that was reactionary.” I kiss her forehead, she leans into it. “Do stop trying to pick a fight though, you’ve been doing it since…” Right, her mother. I take her arm. “Earlier. I don’t want to spend all night arguing with you.” I keep my voice level, trying to prove my point. We continue moving.

We cut through the overdressed crowd, wealth for them displayed as a show of strength, thronging between the overly plush parlors and the lavish ballroom. The lamps reflect off jewels at every turn, laughter flowing with the wine, and again they gossip and whisper as we pass. I pay it no mind, I’m here to achieve something, a step forward for Noxus.

Kat’s voice cuts through the din. “Sorry for being difficult, I wasn’t expecting what happened earlier.”

I’m slightly taken aback at her honesty. “Would you feel better if I found you someone to stab?”

“Maybe.” It was supposed to make her smile again, but her response is a soft monotone.

We pause again, stepping out of the flow of the crowd around us. I lean down to kiss her, pulling her against me, feeling every one of her curves pressed against me through her dress. “Or maybe we should wander off and find some place secluded.”

She’s wrapped herself around me. “Wouldn’t that be too undignified for your position? Imagine the Grand General fucking some harlot in an abandoned hallway.” Her lips graze my ear and she has no idea how close I am to recreating that moment. There are more pressing matters however. She sighs softly, not pulling out of my arms. “I don’t really want to fight with you.” Her words are uncharacteristically tinged with sadness.

Frequently she’s angry or annoyed or irritable, she’s never sad. It strikes me as wrong somehow. I reach up to cup her cheek and brush my thumb along it. “Then let’s not.” She nods and lets me continue leading us toward our goal, stopping to grab a glass of wine from a passing servant.

I spy Argos, engrossed in some conversation and looking as uncomfortable as ever. When he looks up and his eyes meet mine, I signal for him to follow. We come at last to a back parlor, buried in the depths of the house. The horde of guests has thinned out, leaving the area much quieter. Inside, Darius is already waiting with Augustus’s younger sister, Coraline.

Argos looks around quickly, clearly trying to ascertain if the situation bids him ill. Coraline senses the tension and gestures around her. “Do take a seat.”

The plush couches arranged in a semicircle are faded with age and fraying, the gilding is wearing off in some spots it would seem. The lamps are set low to attract less attention. “Is she here?” I look to Coraline.

“Of course. Thankfully my dear brother let me handle some of the arrangements for this evening.” She rises to speak in hushed tones to a servant just outside the door.

I take a seat directly across from Argos, Darius to my left. Kat remains standing behind me, draining another glass of wine she acquired from somewhere. In moments a short woman with sun-kissed skin is shown in by the servant.

Coraline introduces her to our small group. “This is Amara Whitney. For those of you unfamiliar with our purpose here tonight, she has a most intriguing proposal for a strategy to quickly and reliably produce black powder weapons.” Argos and Darius lean forward, suitably invested in the revelation.

“Correct.” The strength of her voice is disproportionate to her sleight frame. “By combining parts made to exact specifications and the rifled barrel, we can make unlimited, accurate, black powder weapons. With the steam engine providing power to machine those parts we can do it quickly and efficiently.” It’s a beautiful image, the forces of Noxus, armed with endless black powder weapons. It’s needed as well. The vision in the North gave me the first hint, but there have been others since, some conspiracy is establishing itself. I have an intimation who is agitating it, but it’s been frustratingly mostly chasing shadows. I know the Generals I have put in place will keep the army loyal though, and I may need it to be as deadly as possible. Just one of many security measures I’m working into place.

“If funds were provided to set up the operation in small scale, you would guarantee your results?” I stare her down, searching for any sign of hesitation.

She holds fast. “Of course, all that’s needed is funding.”

“Your input?” I look to Darius and Argos.

“That would be quite the advantage. Hextexch is near impossible to acquire in large numbers and we already control most of the black powder production on the continent.” Argos is eager.

“It needs to be funded. High Command will be skeptical of taking that on.” Darius has a point.

“I know, that’s why we need private investors.” Of course, I’ll be involved, but as promising as it is, I will not be bankrolling it solo. If it all works out though, selling the arms to the Empire should net a nice profit. There’s a reason I turned the family fortune from lands and estates to finance and investments.

“So we need to decide who to go to. This may be too forward thinking for some of my more traditional peers.” Coraline looks pointedly at me and Kat, still standing behind me. “I will be happy to contribute, provided Augustus is not an obstacle.” That is the conundrum, as stuck as they are in their ways, the Nobility still has plenty of resources. There is an alternative.

“Why involve them at all?” All eyes turn to Kat. “They are rotting in their ways and traditions while the bankers and merchants thrive. Why not go to those who have been making their own fortune, at least they can see the future.”

I turn my gaze toward her, stunned she involved herself, and more than a little impressed that she cut to the heart of the matter. “That’s exactly the solution. We don’t need them.” I haven’t been trying to convince her she has more abilities than just being an assassin for my own amusement. I reach up and put my hand over hers. “Very astute observation.”

All eyes are still on her. “Right, I’m bored now. I’m going to find another drink.” She turns her back on those eyes and exits briskly.

“She’s been spending way too much time with you.” Darius grins like he knows some hidden secret. “If she’s not careful you’re going to make her completely boring.”

“Moving on. Coraline, secure an exit for our new friend. I’ll count on you to get meetings with the right investors. I’ll see to it that your brother isn’t much trouble at all”

She nods, looking perfectly satisfied at my last words. “I will be in touch.”

Finally, this night is nearing a conclusion. Although it has been enjoyable parading Kat around at my side. “We should all go out and fulfill our social obligations before leaving.” I look pointedly at Argos. “Let’s not make things too obvious for now. Darius, try not to drink our host dry.”

“Kat’s probably already beat me to it.” I should find her before that gets close to being true.

We exit one by one, slipping back into the sea of guests. I make the rounds, exchanging empty pleasantries, listening to numbing prattle, and keep an eye out for Kat. I know how she can get when the wine starts flowing, and she already hates crowds.

There is no sign of her after I’ve passed through nearly every room that’s occupied. Honestly, if she’s left on her own, we’ll have words later. Finally, hemmed in by some weasel faced little bureaucrat on the edge of the lavish ballroom I spot her, dancing with Augustus Montrose. I feel my jaw tighten, I explicitly warned her about him.

I keep her in my sight, determined to see them separated without this turning into a scene between the two of us. I’ve never had the opportunity to see her dance before. Every step is elegant and perfectly measured, reflective of her other skills. The idiot leans in and says something and she laughs, looking absolutely carefree. Why is that almost anyone else can do that so easily?

A huge shadow looms over me and the poor, sniveling fellow trying to engage me vanishes. Darius gets uncomfortably close, a wine glass in each hand. “You know, instead of glaring at Montrose like you're going to murder him later, you could just ask her to dance?”

He’s entirely too fixated on this. “Are you implying I’m jealous?”

“I’m not even implying, I saying it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s free to do as she pleases. I just don’t want this having any consequences later.” I don’t need everyone here connecting the two of them.

He rolls his eyes and continues drinking as a response. The music ends and Montrose walks her off the dance floor, finding another drink to pass to her. When she looks in my direction we lock eyes and she immediately looks down and away. Neither walk away and he continues to hover around her. That’s it, the pampered little fop has had enough of her time.

I start towards them. “Nope, not jealous at all,” Darius mutters behind me.

The music begins again. “One more dance?” His voice exudes artifice and practiced charm.

I clear my throat behind them. “Apologies Augustus.” At least her apology wasn’t sincere and now we can finally be done with this. “I owe one to someone else.” She smiles and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the dance floor with surprising strength. This wasn’t what I had intended in the least.

“By all means.” He bows graciously but stares daggers at me. Idiot.

We find ourselves in the midst of a waltz, at the edge of the dance floor, perfectly visible to everyone. “Now everyone’s staring again.” Her cheeks are flushed, though if it’s the wine, the warmth of the room, or the attention, I can’t tell.

“That’s because I don’t typically dance.” And I don’t know why I am now.

“I can tell.” She laughs in that same carefree manner she had with Darius earlier. And like her smile at home, it’s been far too long since she laughed like that around me.

“I’m not that bad, you’re very mean.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good enough for both of us.” She’s right, I am terrible at this, but I struggle through. My timing is completely off and I step on her at least twice, but her hand in mine leads me on. The scent of violet perfume that surrounds her is almost intoxicating. It combines with the heat of the room and makes it difficult to draw breath. It’s a little bit of delirium, and dangerously I let the room and the crowd fade away in my mind until there’s just the two of us, just for a second. Then reality pushes back in and the foolishness of it seizes me. The waltz concludes and she lets out a little sigh. At least this has served as distraction enough that no one will remember her and Augustus. “I imagine you’re ready to leave.”

A strand of her hair has come loose, I reach out and brush it behind her ear. “We could stay if you want.” She seemed so content.

She closes her eyes. “No, let’s go, I’m done with all this.”

She leans her head on my shoulder the whole ride home, eyes half closed. I can tell she overdid it when I wasn’t watching. “So, when do you want me to kill him?” She finally breaks the silence.

I hesitate, that was the last topic I expected. “Later.” I don’t want to worry about plots and plans and grand schemes for the rest of the night. “It can wait.”

“Pretending to be somewhat pleasant tire you out?” Her lips brush my cheek softly, in direct opposition to her little jab.

I pull her tighter against me. “You always insist on pushing your luck with me, don't you Kitten?”

We finally come to a stop and I help her step down from the carriage. The snow has begun falling again, wet and heavy, blanketing the walk. She missteps and wobbles a bit, my arms wrap around her, keeping her on her feet. “Most dangerous assassin in Noxus, can’t walk in the snow.”

She starts to dissolve into that soft giggling that only comes out when she’s like this. “Shut it! It’s this stupid outfit I’m stuffed into.”

“And you’re tipsy. Do you need me to carry you?” She continues to laugh while playfully swatting my hand away. She looks breathtaking with the snow falling around her and her eyes lit up with genuine mirth. I wonder for a moment if we could always be like this. Could she be all happiness and smiles if I tried? Would she want that? Just to make life easier for both of us.

The servants are all asleep and I keep her from waking Gwen when we get upstairs. I’m tired of being around other people. “Who’s going to get me out of this damn thing?”

“Be patient for a few seconds.” I take her shoulders and turn her away from me. I get to work on the tiny little buttons, followed by the lacing, their precious nature preventing me from using my left hand. She waits patiently, letting me take my time undressing her, finally sighing softly when my fingers trace her bare skin. I help her with the little pins in her hair, admiring the way it cascades down her back when freed.

She turns and her arms entwine me as she leans in to give me a teasing kiss, lips parted ever so slightly, her intention obvious. “Not tonight my tipsy little Kitten. Straight to bed with you.” She pouts, as per usual when she’s been denied something, but makes her way to bed.

When I join her under the covers she's already mostly asleep, curled up in the middle of the bed. “Move over.” I try to gently push her toward her side.

She mumbles something sleepily but gives way, turning her back toward me. I take my place beside her and make sure the covers are pulled up around her, I know she hates it when she gets cold. My arm wraps around her waist and I lay a light kiss on her shoulder as she relaxes against me. “Night Jericho.” She whispers softly, eyes closed.

"Goodnight Kat." Sleep eludes me though as I lay here, holding this moment in my mind. It means more than it should, her curled up next to me, content in my arms. I can’t puzzle it out, I tell myself to let it go. I kiss the top of her head and finally begin to drift off.

#swain #jericho swain #swain league of legends #katarina #katarina du couteau #katarina leau #lol katarina #lol swain #swain/katarina #swain x katarina #League of Legends #league of legends fanfiction #the blade's edge #my fanfiction #my writing

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ghostmartyr · 5 years

Text

SnK 114 Thoughts

This is going to be done a little differently than my usual chapter posts, because I can. Or I guess a nerve got struck or something, who can say.

Attack on Titan is about humans and monsters.

It’s about the monsters humanity faces, and the monsters that humans can become.

It’s about fighting those monsters at both ends.

It depicts this fight as never-ending. You might not see the end. Your children might not see the end. Your grandchildren might not see the end. But for the generation that does see the end, for time that you’re here, you’ll play your part.

If you beat down one monster, another will take its place.

If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, you’ll be the monster.

There is too much wrong in this world for it to ever be right.

“I remember the pain again... Do I... have to... start all over again? This is a... cruel world. And yet... so beautiful. It was a good life.” Mikasa, 7

“They would all be happier... if I wasn’t alive.” Historia, 52

“They said just killing you would solve everything, but...” “I’m the same way. I thought it would be better if I’d never been born. The world hated me for just existing. To bring happiness to many people... I died.” Ymir, 40

“I... never needed to happen. Do it... At the very least... I want you to end it all for me.” “It’s bad for everyone if I keep on living!! Please, just hurry up and eat me!! I can’t go on living like this!!” Eren, 65, 66

“If Marley decides to exterminate all Eldians... I will accept it. That is how grave the crime of us Eldians were. They could never be atoned for. Eldians... Titans... they never should have existed in the first place.” Willy, paraphrasing Karl Fritz, 99

“Of course this danger now facing our world... can all be traced back to the existence of Eldians. I... would choose to have never been born, if it was up to me. I’ve hated my blood. More than anyone else... I wished for the extinction of all Eldians." Willy, 100

“I... can’t stand this anymore... Just... kill me, I beg of you... I want to vanish.” Reiner, 100

“You don’t really think ‘I don’t want to die.’ Youve always tried to think of a way to martyr yourself so everyone will praise you!” Ymir, 40

“I became a Warrior... because I wanted to kill myself in the grandest way I could. That’s all.” “How much better would it have all been... if I was never born into this world?” Xaver, 114

“If we’d never been born in the first place... we never would have had to suffer.” Zeke, 114

Death is nothing new to Attack on Titan. It’s everywhere. The very concept of the heroic group the protagonist wants to join is founded on the belief that their soldiers’ deaths will pave the path to a better future. It isn’t a kind future. Eren’s called a suicidal bastard for dreaming of being a Scout.

From the very start, though, that’s what the chosen protagonists are going to represent. The wings on their backs stand for freedom. Going outside the walls, even if it only leads to their deaths, is what it means to be free.

Death is a side effect.

It’s an inevitability. The world is too cruel to bypass it for the things you value, so you fight for the hollow spirit of your beliefs without seeing them ever come to fruition.

Endlessly.

Uselessly, darker thoughts start to argue.

For Eldians with a fuller history of the world, they’ve been aware of it on some level for all their lives. They have a monster waiting to be unlocked inside of them, and the longer they live, the greater the risk of that monster being exploited. They grow up hearing the horror stories of what they’re capable of.

The people of Paradis know it first-hand. Their lives for the past hundred years are forged through fear of the titans, with an entire branch of their military devoted to going out and dying in attempts to make the world less scary.

Even in the renewed version of history Willy Tybur offers, Eldia is full of tyrants until Marley becomes the tyrants. Using the same power Eldia did.

Xaver’s wife kills her son. She specifically kills her son before she kills herself. She has a man she loves, and in theory a child she loves, and the moment she understands that her child has that monstrous, tainted blood, she kills both of them.

In response, Xaver kills himself.

As slowly as possible. Learning as much as he can.

But he becomes a Warrior to die, the same way Krista Lenz joins the military to die.

A generation and a world apart, and still these things come up. Only Historia’s mother is the one who doesn’t have the courage to kill her child. Historia’s mother dies by someone else slitting her throat.

This world eats apart most of the characters we’ve seen. They’ve suffered losses and hardships, and the only release they have left becomes continuing forward. Developing their tactics, learning what they can, but living on. Killing themselves and their comrades again, and again, all for a small scrap of progress.

It’s behavior Zeke can’t stand.

“I’m sure that by the end, they’ll be sending every person inside those walls off on a suicide charge, from their elders to their children... they’ll go on saying if they’re going to die anyway, might as well make it a proud death. ...It only proves how unimaginative and set in their ways they are. ...The little fools.” Zeke, 81

All this suffering, and for what?

Titans are still going to exist.

People are still going to be terrified of them.

People still should be terrified of them.

It would be so much better if none of them existed. The memories of baseball and research can stay, but it stops there. No one will carry it on. No one’s life will be shortened so they can be someone else’s tool of destruction.

From the very beginning, there’s been a loud cry to exterminate all the titans.

Eldians are just embryo titans. All of them. For their own sake, as well as for the sake of the world around them, it’s better off if they just don’t exist anymore.

Zeke’s plan won’t cause them much pain, really. Yes, most of them will probably die in the coming war, but a few will surely live out their lives to their natural expiration date, childless, and then the threat of the titans will be a distant memory. How awful is that, really, compared to the atrocities their powers have played party to?

It’s preventing so much future pain, and the cost is what? The selfish joy of having your bloodline continued?

Zeke knows how perverse that joy becomes. Children only end up inheriting their parents’ sins and problems. He escapes them by a man he has no blood relation to coming in and saving his life.

It’s practically humane.

It’s one person deciding to rewrite the infrastructure of his entire race because the world has been so incomprehensibly cruel he can’t think of a solution that isn’t death.

Zeke’s not a character I ever expected to identify with. He’s a hypocritical jackass who’s so arrogant about his own life’s purpose that he’s turned off his ability to evolve. He isn’t responding to the world around him and seeking to change it; he’s already decided what he’s going to do.

This cycle ends. No one is coming after them. There is never going to be another Eldian Empire. There is never going to be another person who suffers from the existence of Eldians.

That fixes it, right?

If it all just stops, somehow that will make it okay again. You don’t have to fix it. It can’t be fixed. It is impossible to fix, no matter how hard you try. Trying just casts more ruin upon the world. Give up, stop, and it will all be better.

The content of what Zeke’s doing could be an interesting discussion all on its own, but that isn’t what makes this chapter hard to write about, for me. It’s that one screencap above that sea of quotes.

So now let’s make this awkward.

I’ve wanted to kill myself for months.

The thought has been present for years, but the want has mostly been since this summer. Am I out of good things that might happen? No. There are plenty of baseball games I could enjoy. There’s more to learn and experience. There are definite things I’ve lived through that brought me joy that I wouldn’t have had if I killed myself when I first had the crushing want to.

There isn’t one grand, unifying way to feel suicidal. You’ll get similar stories if you gather people into a clump, but people always insist on doing everything differently.

But since the very start of not really caring about Zeke, his conversation with Reiner and Bertolt on the wall stuck out.

He doesn’t talk about the suffering he’s experienced. Or caused. His aims are very straightforward.

“We have one goal, right? Regain the Coordinate here... and put a stop to this cursed history. Let’s just... end this. I want us... to end this.”

Three times in one page, he just talks about things stopping.

It’s something exhausting, to feel that tired. To look at the world around you and decide it’s beyond salvation. It isn’t always sadness or pain. Sometimes it’s just... being done. There’s no will left to fight, and could it please, please stop now. The ride isn’t fun, it’s not going anywhere fun, it’s not going anywhere at all, so isn’t it better if it just doesn’t exist anymore?

Living stops being the point. Cutting things off before they get even worse is the best you can hope for. Everything is just that bad. Surviving in hopes of changing it? That will only make it worse.

At some point, every avenue of thought in your head turns into thinking that everything would be so much better off if it died. Sometimes it isn’t even about you. It’s about random strangers on the news, and thinking that if whatever injury they got in some fire killed them, they won’t have to worry about finding a new place to live, and wouldn’t that be better?

Living is hard.

Stopping it all... that sounds good. It is the only thing in the world that sounds like hope after hope stops existing for you.

That makes this chapter such a pain to go over.

Because whatever the hypothetical merits of Zeke’s grand solution, all I can see is one more voice added to this series’ suicidal idiots. One more person who is so done with life, he’s decided to make sure everyone else will be done with it too.

I’ve said a few times that this is a series about genocide and how it’s bad. I still feel that is a correct statement, but in a very frustrated comment I made to a friend earlier this evening, I said this series is about suicide.

Most substantially, it’s about, fuck suicide.

Fuck it right off a cliff.

Over and over again, we see characters pushed to the brink. We see them give up, and hate themselves. We see them begging for death.

Then they get back up.

“That’s right... I still have... them...” Reiner, 97

“I’m keeping my name as I live this new life! Living this way is my way of getting revenge!! I’m going to be living proof that your fate isn’t decided at birth!!” “So what about you?! You’re going to kill yourself, the ultimate act of submission. Is that how much you want to please the people who treated you like a nuisance?! Why are you trying to hurt yourself?! If your will is that strong... then shouldn’t you be able to change your fate?!”

“...I died. But--when I did, I wished for something from the bottom of my heart. If I could be born again... I wanted to live my next life for no one but myself.” Ymir, 40

“It hit me that living was like a miracle.” “I can’t... give up. If I die now... I won’t even be able... to remember you. So--no matter what... I’m going to win! Whatever I have to do, I’m going to live!!” Mikasa, 6, 7

“When I see someone crying, saying... no one needs them... I want to tell them... It’s not true. No matter who! No matter where!” Historia, 66

“I want you to let me do it... just once. Let me believe in myself.” Eren, 66

“...But. I do not wish to die. Because... I was born into this world.” Willy, 100

“When we’re born... all of us... are free. People who reject that, no matter how strong they are... don’t matter.” “It doesn’t matter... how terrifying the world is. It doesn’t matter... how cruel the world is. Fight!! Fight!! FIGHT!!” Eren, 14

Zeke rejects that fight. He’s done with the world. He alone sees the truth, and that truth is that the only way to save Eldians from harm is for them all to die out.

Chapter 114 is called, “Sole Salvation.”

It isn’t a hard thing to fall into the belief that the only net good waiting lies in death. It’s very, very easy, and for my part, that makes reading this narrative, which this chapter specifically calls home, difficult.

Zeke is not unsympathetic in his life’s hells. The little boy who so badly wants to spend some free time with his father who only sees him as a tool--he is a child, and what he goes through at the age of seven is enough to call the tragic backstory a wrap.

He’s pretty clearly an antagonist.

The themes the story has allied itself with are that of fighting for better, even if that better can never be yours.

Zeke’s sort of there, except his entire strategy hinges on the idea that better can never exist while Eldians walk the world. Their entire presence is a blight. Zeke’s decided that the only better that can happen is one that doesn’t include Eldians.

Thematically at least, the story so far isn’t so chill with that.

Zeke is still working towards a goal, and he’ll sacrifice everything to get there, fighting his heart out, but he’s given up. He’s looked at an entire race of people and decided that there’s nothing but pain to be salvaged in them.

Part of me resents arguing against that, because yeah. Even just reading the manga, I’m looking at all of the possible happy endings I can come up with and they’re laughable in their optimism. Calling it quits and wiping your hands of the whole mess doesn’t sound like such a bad deal, really.

Only that’s not the mindset this story operates on.

If you don’t fight, you can’t win.

It isn’t about not losing.

It’s about winning.

It’s about living.

Laced through quite a few of the quotes up there is a concept that Carla puts rather nicely in the 71st chapter.

“He’s already great. Because he was born... into this world.”

Life has meaning the second it starts. Not what you do with it. Not what you contribute to the world. Those things matter--of course they matter--but that’s not the driving spirit that keeps on coming through.

So many characters talk about being born. When they look inside themselves for their reasons and beliefs, they start there. They start before they’re even cognizant.

Life has meaning because it’s life.

You don’t have to be worthy of it.

You don’t have to deserve it.

You’re allowed to have it because you are a person.

Zeke wants to deny that for Eldians. The ones who are around can stay, but the very concept of life for its own sake is one he’s given up on for his people.

I’ve never really gotten people who feel a need to have themselves continue on, but it isn’t a choice anyone else should get to make for them. Their lives should belong to them. They should be able to live them how they want.

Zeke the only way to justify the lives of Eldians is if their genetic code is altered so that more of them can never exist.

Because he wants the pain to stop.

The pain never stops.

That’s why Mikasa’s line is so iconic. There’s always pain. That doesn’t mean there can’t still be beauty. Heck, the other one she says is almost better; “It hit me that living was like a miracle.”

Zeke’s ripping out a rosebush because it’s covered in thorns. The beauty of the roses is less important to him than the cruelty of the thorns.

Relatable.

Deeply, deeply fucking relatable.

And I hope the narrative does what it’s done every single time with this kind of thinking and kicks it bloody.

Beauty means more than cruelty. If it doesn’t feel that way, that’s all the more reason to fight for it, until it feels like it matters as much as something that glorious should. The cruelty is not the end of the story.

Zeke wants it to be, because he can’t see how there will ever be a different end.

Fantastic. Good luck, Eren. Fuck knows you aren’t the gold standard for dealing with this in a healthy way, but maybe enough of your friends will be around to kick you in the head that you’ll think of something clever.

-sigh-

I guess I’m done. Even if this is more of a series post than a chapter post, but I guess technically these are just my thoughts on a chapter, and heyo, my thoughts.

Though one thing.

One thing I will mention.

Is that Zeke shouldn’t want Historia to be pregnant.

Like, he’s generally very anti-pregnancy already, but if he does his Founding mojo, he’ll still die, and the current generation will still be around, and as long as there’s someone of royal blood, said Founding mojo can be undone.

Geez I need a drink.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 114 #Zeke Yeager #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post #the majority of this post is quotes probably and I'm not sorry #am mildly sorry for the content that's not quotes

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aurora-nova-fic · 5 years

Text

Archimedes Snippets, Part 2

A couple more ideas for Garak as a Starfleet spouse, following All Our Tomorrows. Because the muse doesn’t want to work on a complete story so much as little scenes here and there in various follow-up works.

As before, these are unpolished (you can tell, because the tenses switch from one snippet to the next). I’m not really doing anything with these, just getting the ideas down so I can stop writing them in my head.

The Bashir & Garak show moves. The crew of the Archimedes is intrigued.

The Archimedes is twenty hours into its two-year mission when Bashir and Garak first argue in public.

This doesn’t escape anyone’s notice. Starfleet gossips. Not everyone, of course; the exact amount of gossip per person varies considerably. Any ship or station with a large percentage of Vulcans can be expected to show a corresponding drop in this behavior (sociologists have done studies, inherent difficulties in studying the subject notwithstanding). On the whole, though, it’s a popular pastime, especially when things are a bit dull at the moment or when a new crew comes together.

The USS Archimedes is fresh from Utopia Planetia with a new crew still getting to know each other, and it doesn’t surprise anyone when the first focal point of gossip is Dr. Julian Bashir.

For one thing, their CMO comes to the Archimedes from Deep Space Nine, where he was indisputably a hero of the Dominion War. His discovery of the cure for the changeling disease helped end the war, though for some reason that’s the only medical topic about which he doesn’t like to speak. He was there from the beginning of the quadrant’s conflict with the Founders, survived a Dominion internment camp, and developed an antigen to prevent the spread of a Dominion-bioengineered disease.

He’s also the first Augment allowed to serve openly in Starfleet, which is still controversial in some circles. The idea is that he’s not Khan, but some people are afraid he’s the tip of a dangerous iceberg. Nobody on the Archimedes knows Bashir’s personal feelings on the subject of genetic engineering, because the only people brave enough to ask, this early in the voyage, are also wise enough to know it’s not their business.

What really secures Bashir’s place as the grapevine’s favorite subject is his marriage. He arrives on the Archimedes newly married, which would’ve been unremarkable if his husband hadn’t been a Cardassian. A Cardassian who worked with the Federation during the war but may have been an Obsidian Order agent before that. Nobody on the ship is entirely sure, nor do they know exactly what said order actually did, but they assume it was something like the Tal Shiar and don’t like the idea one bit.

So it’s natural that everyone’s watching them. And what the crew sees confuses them at first.

Not a full Earth day after leaving Deep Space Nine, Bashir takes a late lunch and meets his husband in the mess hall. A handful of alpha shift crewmembers are around, and some of the beta shift getting an early breakfast, so there a good dozen witnesses to see both of them getting worked up. They speak quietly, but have intent facial expressions and both gesture with abandon.

“Didn’t they just get married?” asks Taiya, a beta shift engineer.

“I heard they practically came aboard from their honeymoon,” replies MacPherson, who then has to explain the concept to Taiya and thus learns Andorians have no equivalent.

“Short honeymoon phase,” adds Kowalczyk.

To the trio’s delight, Bashir and Garak have gotten so into their argument they raise their voices. “… absolute caricature of a villain is insulting to the reader.”

Bashir’s eyebrows fly up. “Really? That’s your next complaint?”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me anyone goes around proclaiming, ‘Woe me, I’m so hideous to look at, I must therefore kill my brother and nephews.’ As motivations go, it lacks any semblance of credence.”

Taiya’s antennae twitch in confusion.

“You’re deliberately ignoring his motivation,” insists Bashir. The audience doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. “Gloucester claims to have been ‘cheated of feature by dissembling nature,’ so wronged that even dogs bark when he walks by.”

“From my understanding, Terran dogs bark all the time. It’s hardly good reason to kill your own brother.”

“He feels everyone hates him because of his physical appearance. ‘And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain.’ If he’d been shown kindness and love, he wouldn’t have been so angry. His life could’ve been entirely different!”

“You cannot possibly intend to read this as advocating the healing power of love.”

“No, because we don’t see anyone show Gloucester love, but think of the possibility. His life could’ve been entirely different if…”

“…he lived in a time when his deformities could be easily treated?”

“…people weren’t so shallow.”

“That is a theory not remotely supported by the rest of the text.”

“Shakespeare,” says MacPherson. “I think that’s Richard III.” When the others give him a questioning look, he shrugs. “My mother does community theater, so I spent a lot of time at rehearsals as a kid. You pick these things up.”

Bashir’s combadge beeps. “We’ll have to continue this discussion later,” he says. He and Garak briefly press their palms together, and then the doctor heads out of the mess hall.

Garak looks towards the observing trio, smiles knowingly, and picks up a padd.

This becomes a pattern. Bashir and his husband (no one even knows if the man has a first name) don’t act like newlyweds in love. They argue. Constantly. In fact they argue more than Vord can believe, and she’s a Tellarite. A Tellarite who joined Starfleet to escape the constant verbal sparring of Tellar, if it matters, but even on her homeworld, marriage is supposed to be a refuge from conflict.

They meet for lunch when Bashir’s schedule permits. The crew begins to consider this a source of entertainment, even when they don’t have any knowledge of the books under discussion. It’s usually literature at lunch. Human and Cardassian, mostly, but they sometimes add in works from other societies with no rhyme or reason anyone else can figure. Taiya says they’re both wrong about a seminal Andorian novel, according to a Written Arts teacher she had at age sixteen.

They’re obviously fast readers, given that they discuss a new book every other day, every third at the outside. Either that, or, as Kowalczyk says, they have a lot less sex than your average newlyweds.

Some ten days into the mission, Bashir calls a Cardassian book derivative and Garak reaches new levels of primly outraged.

“Derivative! Just because your authors have no respect for tradition doesn’t mean the rest of the galaxy is so enamored with the new.” He’s clearly gearing up for a long diatribe. Some of the crew pause their own lunch to watch the spectacle when Bashir’s combage chirps, and he gets up with clear regret.

That’s when people start to realize the CMO and his husband love debating. This is a honeymoon phase, weirdly enough. The pair is spotted coming out of Holodeck 1 disagreeing on the program they’d just run.

“You’re not supposed to suspect Watson.”

“I don’t see why not,” replies Garak. “If he’s constructing the narrative, he could well be the murderer.”

It appears there’s nothing they won’t argue. This doesn’t stop them from looking like they want to jump each other, though they are actually very decorous in public. No one has ever seen them do more than press their hands together.

People wonder what happens when they’re actually fighting. It turns out, silence. One day, a month into the mission, they eat quietly. It’s unnerving. They must make up overnight, though, because the following day they’re at it again, hashing out opposing views on a Cardassian poet.

Kotra references come in handy

“Archimedes to Bashir,” said Lt. (j.g) Connelly, Operations Officer.

It was a long moment before the CMO responded, and if he didn’t have a good reason, Andrea was going to have a chat with him about setting alarms for check-ins.

“Bashir here.”

“You’re overdue for check-in, Doctor,” said Andrea.

“My apologies, Captain. The aid evaluation is very complex.”

That was what alarms were for, Andrea thought. “Anything to report?”

“It’s a delicate matter. I should have a better idea of what’s needed shortly.”

They’d responded to a request for help from a small Klingon colony in need of medical assistance. Andrea hadn’t even known there was a Klingon colony in the Gamma Quadrant, but the Empire wasn’t obligated to disclose every settlement to the Federation, and were within their agreed-upon rights here. The Archimedes therefore dispatched an away team to see what could be done about their medical problem. Everyone knew Klingon medicine was a joke.

“Keep me informed,” said Andrea.

“Yes, ma’am.” A pause, and then, “May I speak with Garak for my spousal check-in, please?”

Starfleet did not offer spousal check-ins. Andrea started to think Bashir hadn’t forgotten anything, and there was a problem on the surface. “Of course,” she said. “One moment.”

At her nod, Connelly opened a channel to Bashir and Garak’s quarters. “Garak,” said Andrea. “Dr. Bashir commed for his spousal check-in.”

“Excellent.” Garak didn’t sound surprised in the least. He was a very good actor, Andrea decided – or she hoped that was the case here. “Are you there, Julian?”

“Yes. You’d like the temperature down here.”

“But not the menu, I’m sure.”

“No,” agreed Bashir, sounding amused. “I decided my next kotra move on the ride. It’ll give you something to think about, since I might be down here a while.”

“What is it?”

“Left flank advance center right.”

“An interesting choice,” said Garak.

“You always tell me kotra favors the bold. I look forward to your response.”

“You’ve given me few choices, my dear.”

“I know. Bashir out.”

A very puzzled Connelly reported, “Comm line closed.”

“What was that, Garak?” asked Andrea.

“A request for immediate transport.”

“If you’re wrong, we could start a diplomatic incident with offended Klingons.”

“I’m not wrong, Captain. Dr. Bashir invented a procedure to speak to me, did he not? Furthermore, we are not currently playing kotra, but the move he indicated is a trap he fell into the night before last.”

“A trap,” repeated Andrea. “I see. Lieutenant, beam up the away team.”

“Initiating transport,” said Connelly. “I have them. Transporter room two.”

Andrea tapped her combadge. “Scholz to Bashir. What the hell is going on?”

“It was a trap, Captain. They took our combadges and had a mek’leth to Tersan’s throat, so I had to get creative to avoid suspicion.”

“Is everyone alright?”

“Nothing worse than bruises. Something on this planet is unbalancing the Klingons’ mental state. The worst cases exhibit paranoia, and they decided the away team is part of a Federation plot to keep the Empire out of the Gamma Quadrant.”

“I want to see the entire away team in my ready room.”

“On our way.”

“And Doctor? Good thinking.”

#ds9 #fanfic #garak/bashir #snippets

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rauliskafan · 6 years

Text

A Hard Lesson in Discord: Chapter 10

Authors’ Note: Happy Sunday, sensational readers!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I adore you all and your amazing comments!!! Rafael and Natalia are on edge after Nevada’s latest stunt. Will a night at home make things right... or send them down a darker path??? Read on for more!!! Enjoy!!! :)

Rafael threw back a glass of scotch as he and Langan attempted to plan their next move, needing to prove to the judge that Ines Abreu was the threat. That her alliance with the drug lord posed the greatest danger to Ashtonja’s happiness…

…nothing to do with his own actions… or those of his wife…

“We never should have sat down with them,” Rafael said as he furiously combed his fingers through his hair.

“Had Granger been in earnest, the judge would have seen that we were at least willing to listen,” Langan said, taking a sip of his drink. “But you’re right; it can’t happen again.”

Not that the damage wasn’t already done. Their anger on record, Ramirez playing like he was so concerned for everyone else’s well-being.

How to make it right?

“There has to be another way.” Rafael paced the living room, hoping that something would strike him.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?” Langan asked.

Shaking his head, Rafael carefully moved to answer the call, opening the way to the front stoop to see Carisi carrying a stack of papers and sporting a smile.

“Sorry to show up unannounced,” the detective started. “Heard what went down today.”

“Word travels fast,” Rafael dryly stated.

“Well, it got me thinking… and I might have something you can use.” Not sure if Carisi’s intentions would prove of any help, Rafael still let him inside, watching and waiting while he passed the paperwork to Langan.

“I hope you obtained this legally,” the lawyer said.

“Relax,” Carisi assured him. “No harm in looking at his record… or hers.”

Rafael snatched the file, and his eyes hurriedly scanned for the smoking gun. “A few assault and battery charges… rehab…”

“Ashtonja ever mention any of this?” Langan asked.

“No,” Rafael admitted. “We didn’t want her to have to think about it.”

“Not sure if it would even make a difference,” Langan said with a heavy sigh. “These go back a ways. She might not even remember.”

“I don’t know about that,” Rafael said.

“But Granger could pair the rehab stints with a drug test. Make it look like she’s turned over a new leaf…” He hardly seemed impressed, and Rafael was ready to reluctantly agree when---

“Keep going,” Carisi said. “You’ll get to the good part.”

As if on cue, Rafael pulled out an image of Ines and Ramirez meeting outside of his club, a telephoto lens having captured the exchange of a small package.

“What is that?” Rafael asked.

“Has to be money or drugs,” Carisi said. “Shouldn’t be too hard to spin.”

In Rafael’s mind, he almost saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Paint Ines into a corner. Show her to be a partner in Ramirez’ crime empire and not just the beneficiary of his so-called charity…

“No,” Langan said. “This won’t work.”

“Why not?” Carisi asked.

“Because Granger has the tape, and Ramirez has already set himself up as the victim of some sort of conspiracy,” Langan said. “Not throwing fuel on that fire.”

“Why not?” Carisi challenged. “You afraid or something?”

“No,” Langan sneered. “But this is not a pissing contest.”

“So, Granger can throw Rafael’s time in prison into the mix, and that stays on the record,” Carisi shot back. “Seems fair.”

“That’s not exactly what---”

“But Carisi has a point,” Rafael said. “We need to make a bold move, or we’ll just keep shoveling this shit uphill.”

“Would you rather he represented you?” Langan asked as he pointed at the detective.

“I could do one hell of a better job…”

Violetta was with Lucia, the twins were down, and Ashtonja… she hardly ate a single bite of her dinner. Despite the worry, Natalia gave in to a few moments of fitful dreams, her girls looking like ghosts and fading into a mist. Just the idea of losing them with Rafael nowhere to be found caused her to shoot up from the pillows, her heart racing. She caught her breath to the sounds of the quarreling below her bedroom. Who was it? Were they actually arguing over the logistics of the law when her world was crumbling all around her?

Enough was enough.

She stood at the top of the staircase, peering down. No one heard her, saw her, and finally Natalia hurried down the steps and seized hold of Carisi’s arm.

“Natalia? What’s wrong?”

“Wrong, Sonny?” she echoed. “You think you’re the man for this job? Do you think that you can fix this?”

“Hermosa, please,” Rafael said, moving towards her, but she pushed away from him, feeling her cheeks flush and her blood burn.

“You three are focusing on Ines when the problem, the real problem is Nevada Ramirez.” Natalia cringed even as she spoke his name aloud. “And we’ve been here before.”

“Natalia, don’t,” Rafael cautioned.

“Why not?” she challenged. “If he was dead, Ines wouldn’t even have the means to try---”

“And you would have been arrested!” Rafael argued. “Would that have helped any of us?”

“Is this?” she said, her head pounding as she ran a hand across her face. “Indulging him? And now… now there’s so much more at stake…”

Unable to finish the thought, feeling sick, she ran to the bathroom and collapsed before the bowl. Heaving and shuddering, she heard the men muttering goodbyes, something about digging deeper when it came to Ines. But it didn’t matter. Nevada was five steps ahead. No doubt he had been planning this like a panther waiting to pounce. She fell back against the sink, hugging her knees close to her chest when Rafael slowly approached the open door.

“Natalia, please”

“You know I’m right, Rafael.”

He hesitated for a moment as he stared into her eyes. Without the sparkle, he could hardly read her thoughts, the loss of their link shaking him to his core. Before he could say anything else, the twins’ cries echoed through the monitor nestled between the picture frames in the other room.

“My babies.”

Struggling to her feet, ignoring her husband’s attempt to help, she rushed up the stairs without giving Rafael a chance to stop her.

He didn’t like this. She was falling back into those days where they wondered if Hazel and Holly were his or that beast’s. It was pushing her over the edge of some unspeakable cliff. If she leaped this time, would they survive the consequences?

He reached the nursery. On any other night, Rafael would have smiled. Not the case now. His heart sank as he watched his wife flutter about the room, scurrying between Hazel and Holly, desperately assuring them that she would always be there. Something in her tone caused Holly’s cries to ring out louder, and when Natalia flinched, Rafael briskly walked forward and swept the youngest twin into his arms. He cuddled her close and kissed her plump cheeks.

“Shhh… mi bella bebe, papi esta aqui.” His gentle voice soothed the infant instantly, and Natalia turned to face him with fresh tears.

“You didn’t think I could handle them on my own?” she asked.

“Please stop putting words in my mouth,” he sighed

“Then say what I want to hear.”

Which was nothing else. Despite the tension hanging between them, somehow they found a rhythm to put the babies back to bed, Rafael’s soft voice singing of faraway lands where nothing and no one could ever cause them harm. Satisfied for a small second, he turned to see Natalia silently crying into Holly’s pink blanket.

“Hermosa, please,” he implored her.

“I don’t want him to take Ashtonja,” she said through strangled whispers.

“I am going to handle it,” Rafael promised, nearly wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You are underestimating him,” Natalia protested harshly as she pushed away from him once more, and Rafael hurried after her into the hallway.

“I was that man’s prisoner as well,” Rafael reminded her as he took a deep breath. “I know what he’s capable of, and I’m no fool.”

“Now who’s putting words in---?”

“We’re not doing this,” he said, waving his hands in the air. “You have to calm down.”

“You should have finished the job when you had him alone in that interrogation room,” Natalia hissed, looking like a stranger for a split second.

Completely stunned, Rafael remained silent. A part of him understood, wanted to make the pain evaporate and right the ship.

But was there a way to do that when…?

“What, Natalia?” he asked. “Do you think I can’t protect you?”

“You’re changing the subject---”

“That has always been the subject. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I don’t know if... if anyone can...”

And her legs gave out. He was quick to catch her, holding her as she wept.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I can’t take this.”

“I know,” he said softly into her hair.

“I… I despise him,” she said. “The way he looks at me… it makes my skin crawl. And he keeps hammering away at our life.”

Glancing down, Rafael bit his bottom lip. Seeing her so sad… he felt his own soul sliced into a million pieces. What else could he say but…

“It’s all going to be my fault.”

Natalia looked up with a wet stare and started to speak when Ashtonja appeared.

“Ash?” Natalia croaked. “What’s the matter?”

“This,” the girl said through a stream of her own tears. “Please. Please stop fighting. It’s my fault.”

Pulling away from her husband, Natalia held Ashtonja and rocked her gently.

“Never,” Natalia said. “We’re sorry.”

“I don’t even know who this guy is,” Ashtonja cried. “Why is he doing this to you?”

Saying nothing, Natalia kissed her again and started guiding the girl back to her bedroom. She glanced at Rafael, and he saw her already on the brink of her own bold move in response to the question.

Which was too dangerous to let stand.

Shuffling back to the nursery, he looked at his sleeping twins. A world with their parents at odds, one older sister sent away for the night while the other cried herself to sleep was not a place where he wanted them to live. Only one thing he could do...

…even if it was not what Natalia had in mind.

Tagging: @minidodds @dreila03 @mrsrafaelbarba @delia26 @rafi-esparza @fortheloveofallthingsraul @yourtropegirl @letty-o@lyssa1385 @mrschiltoncat @sweetsummertime99@obfuscateyummy

#raúl esparza #rafael barba #natalia barba #trevor langan #dominick sonny carisi #ashtonja abreu #a hard lesson series #a hard lesson in discord #law & order: svu #svu fanfiction

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nitrateglow · 6 years

Text

Thoughts on The Last Jedi (spoilers under the “keep reading” line)

I originally wanted to just make a small list of things I liked and did not like about this movie, but I’ve come to realize my feelings are a bit more complicated than I expected. I don’t hate it, nor do I think it is the worst film in the series; however, I am baffled by the arguments that it’s somehow a clever deconstruction of the Hollywood blockbuster formula or finding new ground for SW. If anything, I found it an aimless, poorly paced retread of familiar tropes and ideas with only a few interesting elements to save it from being mediocre.

I’ll start with what I considered all-around good: the acting is excellent across the board. Every actor is game, doing their best and even elevating the material at times. It was a bittersweet experience to see the late Carrie Fisher here and even with her limited screen-time, she brings a great deal of dignity and spunk to the princess/general we know and love. Mark Hamill gives one of his best performances as Luke, communicating worlds of pain and regret with his eyes alone. While he isn’t one of the greatest actors of all time outside of the voice-acting world, he is incredibly effective here. Thankfully, Oscar Isaac gets more to do this time around. And everyone else is on the whole fine, even great at times. I was also impressed with the visuals and editing, which are often breathtaking, especially on the big screen. The casino planet was pretty rad too; I can so see the rich and powerful hanging out in such a place. And—everything else is extremely mixed for me.

This movie reminds me of Attack of the Clones in that it is all over the place tonally. I am all for genre hybrids or movies that can touch on several emotional shades at once, but it is a hard thing to do and this movie isn’t up to that. One minute it’s dead serious and in the grand epic mode, then the next we’re dealing with broad comedy more appropriate for a Marvel film. That juxtaposition felt awkward in the prequels and it feels awkward here.

For all the critics’ talk of this movie breaking new ground, I remained frustrated by the same old rehash of lines and themes from the OT. There’s still the good versus evil, the empire chasing rebels Everything is also rushed beyond belief, which seems like a weird conclusion to draw about a 2 ½ hour movie. Rose is barely developed, despite her potential to be a great character (her romantic feelings for Finn are woefully half-baked; I would say the only thing that even makes you believe she was into him was her slight bout of hero worship in her initial scene with him). Finn doesn’t evolve beyond what he was in TFA. Rey doesn’t change, despite the challenges posed to her ideas about the Force by both Luke and Kylo. Her training with Luke, if you can even call it that, is basically nothing, even less than the crash course Luke got from Yoda in Empire. We’re led to believe Luke has some great development, but that’s yet another thing that has little payoff.

Overall, I am torn on Luke Skywalker’s characterization. On one hand, I believe he would become disillusioned with the Jedi after he lost his nephew to the Dark Side—however, do I believe he would stay on that island after hearing one of his oldest friends was MURDERED by the former student he feels he failed? I’m sorry, I don’t. I know people change as they get older and I know enough cranky old people to see how life can beat you down and make you emotionally exhausted. But the thing about Luke is that he’s stubborn and contrarian; when Yoda and Obi-wan told him to give up on Vader (a Sith who committed WAY worse sins on a much grander scale than Kylo-Ren ever did), he went with his hunch that his father could be redeemed, even though he had only his gut instinct as evidence to go on. I have a hard time believing he wouldn’t try to right the wrong he did to his nephew. Him retreating from the conflict feels as false as the strong-minded and very active Padme losing the will to live at the end of Revenge of the Sith. His death sits even less well with me, since I feel the character had more to do and should have been more active in trying to aid the Resistance and train Rey.

Kylo-Ren is more interesting this time around, more conflicted and morally ambiguous. His temptation to turn to the Light mixed with his savagery is great. His interactions with Rey, which are simultaneously uneasy and charged with sexual tension, are fascinating. And yet, like so much else in this movie, it all goes nowhere. I still have no clue why Kylo is drawn to the Dark Side. With Anakin, it was an outgrowth of growing up as a powerless slave and losing those he loved to war and violence, which makes it clear why the idea of a fascist dictatorship would appeal to him. For Palpatine, it was because he was a greedy psychopath. But Kylo? I have no idea what he feels he’s getting on an emotional level from the Dark Side. What do Snoke and the Dark Side promise him that makes turning evil so tempting? He didn’t hate his parents, however lacking he felt they were. Luke was hard on him, though we learn that’s because the kid was already turning to the Dark Side. So where does it all originate? I have no clue and I think, yeah, it’s not unreasonable for me to understand what motivates one of the major villains of this new trilogy. Because otherwise, it is hard for me to be fully invested in him as a character.

In fact, the whole First Order are just disappointing villains, a second-rate empire. I have no idea how they were able to come to power, not only because it’s never brought up in either this film or TFA, but because these guys are about as competent as the Three Stooges. Hux is a punchline subjected to “yo mamma” jokes and proving himself utterly useless time and again. Phasma is pretty much like Boba Fett: she looks cool and fights well, only to get killed off without ceremony. Snoke is a dumber Voldemort, built up as this clever, evil genius only to be proven even worse at underestimating his employees and enemies than Palpatine! I was never a fan of the character to begin with, finding him bland, but here, he just shows up, cackles evilly, then dies in a rather comical manner. How did he come to power? It has to be more than just his powers; even Palpatine was a politician and he preyed on the Clone Wars’ devastation to convince people to make him Emperor. But Snoke? Nothing.

The pacing was also a huge issue for me. Now, I normally dig slow pacing—but this was excruciating, probably because I felt like the story was going nowhere much of the time. Finn and Rose are wasted, given nothing but a McGuffin side-quest. Every time we cut to them, I just lost so much interest. As for the political “subtext” (if you can call an explicitly socio-political monologue subtext) in the Finn and Rose sub-story, I’ll just say I agree with critic Tim Brayton on the matter:

And this plotline feeds right into the absolutely unforgivably terrible subplot, which is the adventures of Finn (John Boyega) the cowardly ex-storm trooper, and Rose (Kelly Marie Tran), the class-conscious engineer, who go on a fetch quest that is every bit as pointless as the whole matter of the military nonsense, only even worse, because it hinges on terrible comedy, bad CGI, and a spectacularly horrible moment when Johnson stops the film in its tracks to provide a ruthlessly on-the-nose lesson about economic inequality and the military-industrial complex, and I hate this all the more for the film's message in this moment being one I passionately agree with - if something has to be artless and awful, better that it not take down a cause I hold dear as part of the collateral damage. And it really is awful; the worst thing in the movie, despite the best intentions of various film critics to defend it (I am sorry, but "has politics I like" is not all it takes to make a movie good. If all you want is for a film to spit your ideology back at you, and it doesn't matter if this is done with any grace or artistry at all, congratulations: you are a Stalinist. I like politics in movies - I love politics in movies - but not every political filmmaker is Sergei Eisenstein, and they should damn well not be treated like they are).

I have no problem with this political/social angle being there; hell, I love the idea of the Rose character and the theme of inspiring the downtrodden (the idea of legends and the power of storytelling really appealed to me, and I loved that last scene with the kids re-enacting the OT story in the stables), but like so much else they feel underwritten and clumsily implemented. It doesn’t help that this side plot feels oddly disconnected from everything else and is far less interesting than Poe or Rey’s stories. And once again, I feel like it accomplished nothing whatsoever, much like the majority of this story.

Now, people might argue the main theme of this movie is about failure and how we must learn from it, thus making this side-plot appropriate. The thing is, I don’t think anyone besides Poe learned much of anything from their mistakes or failures, let alone Finn and Rose. According to writer/director Rian Johnson, one of the big inspirations for this film was the 1964 classic Three Outlaw Samurai, a movie in which the titular heroes become disillusioned with the samurai code and the corruption of the culture in which they live. Concepts such as honor and loyalty become muddied. TLJ is clearly trying to weave a similar theme, with Kylo, Luke, and Ghost!Yoda calling for a new age in which the Jedi and Sith are no more. The problem? Kylo still embraces much of the Sith ideology as much as he claims he’s let go of it (okay, yeah, Abrams claimed he wasn’t a Sith, but that seems more like an in-name only affair given the dynamic between Kylo and Snoke), and Luke, for all his “the Jedi gotta go” lip service, ends his life by triumphantly claiming, “I will not be the last Jedi,” implying he’s passing the torch to Rey. So much for questioning the past.

At the end of the day, the movie left me frustrated and hollow. I’m not very excited to see where they take the story next, because it’s clear they’re going with same-old, same-old, only with vague motivations and no sense of direction. I don’t get what the big point of this new trilogy is. The OT is at its heart about Luke coming of age as a Jedi Knight and redeeming his father. The PT is a tragedy about the fall of both a man and a democracy. The sequels though? I have no clue. I don’t think they go far enough in their attempts to challenge our ideas about the Force or the Jedi, or good and evil. It’s the same old rebels versus tyrants fight, only this time around the villains are more inept than usual and the good guys, for all their failures, don’t appear to learn much of anything.

#thoughts #i think the conflict within me beats out even Kylo-Ren's!!

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top1course · 4 years

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What I Learned Losing $2 Millions Dollars (3 Best Lessons) – Multi-Millionaire Entrepreneur Dan Lok

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Let’s bring on the man himself looking Dapper as ever again Mister deadlocked, thank you, is my mic on okay good, how is day 1 of socialized, artistic always works it does what let me ask you a question, no yesterday in the morning I share the seven lessons I’ve learned, i’ll building my my Timbaland on Empire, the second one in 10 million but doesn’t matter, is so today actually who could summarize the seven lessons from who could do that, who could do that, yes, loud and clear, nonono the seven lessons you can summarize the seven lessons, each one of them each one of them, what’s the first one, god’s Not Dead 1, like in order yes, yeah, yep, that’s the fourth one, yep number 3 Service Road, good, yes, yes, okay I’ll feel what the Obama boss, from me okay tell talk to me afterward I’ll mail you one so, today what I want to do is maybe Liberty Interactive, After these type of conferences other conferences before, that is not the first conference to go to, and what happens is entrepreneurs business owners attend different conferences, and then they get all excited all motivated all psyched up and hyped up and then they go home and then what, yes and do nothing, it all that all the self-help become self-help so my goal for you, is to make sure you actually take some action, get some ideas and some strategies that you can do so let’s see how much time we have a go through a couple of things and then, maybe you have time to do Q&A that sound good, people will not hear the missing out, they’re missing out because, the second day is all about implementation, is about what, quotation so what happened yesterday I should with you seven lessons right, Did I come give you three more, 3 more, 3 more, the lesson number one divided into the lesson is this, ., yesterday we talked about attention yes, cetaceans the new currency That Money Follows attention, so, and afterwards a lot of people come up to me and asked me different questions about their business, the first lesson I want to share with you is this in any business you want to get how many of you actually don’t have a business now but you kind of, i have an idea, so you think wow okay wow okay, so how do you know like to be boss with you, affiliated viable should I do this and this and that, i always say with me any industry any business I want to get into my first question is, first of all is there at the Mann, not just because it’s my f****** idea is there a demand, Are people actually spending money.

Buying this thing, people coming up to me and pinch me all the time do with idea investment, nobody’s ever done this before, let me share my idea with you, at a run, no one’s ever done this before I don’t want it, oh damn my my my text this this is going to be I’m going to be new next Facebook I run, no I don’t want that I look into an industry where this already existing demand, i don’t want to correct in that. This is my personal preference, when they argue with me a lot of money being a Pioneer the Pioneers arrows on their back, mosul money. Lost in my business career because I was a pioneer, trying to do something new nobody’s ever done this before let me prove to you what I could do right, Should I prove how stupid I was, so I don’t like to do that, so any industry Outlook it look into like a Suzuki Manson question is can I be the number one or number two index, category, can I be the number one or number two, if this already number one in the match you well can I, mGP. Do they have any weaknesses or certain things and not doing so well or can I create, a category within that I could be number one and two so let me give an example, how many have you have heard of a little drink Coca-Cola, okay how many have heard of Pepsi, have you seen those Pepsi what is it does a blind tasting test yes it how they do it, play blindfold you in each ran against 7 out of 10 say Pepsi taste as what, yeah, How come Coca-Cola always catch their ass, pepsi can never ever ever be Coca-Cola, because Coca-Cola is first, in any Marketplace better to be first, all different, but better to be first you have that person to Market Advantage so, level one is you want to dominate, not compete, dominate don’t compete, how many of hood of the idea that competition is a good idea, okay it’s a f****** lie, for who, for who you think you say apple compete or you think they dominate, they dominate in any category any industry leader they go in there not competing, they are crushing the competition they don’t want to win by this much they want to win by this much, by this much so any industry at getting to you want to dominate don’t compete, if I look at an industry look at a business okay if I cannot be number one can I be at least be number two, If a I’m Number 3 and 4, i’m not interested, i’m not interested, one of the greatest Business book I believe that it’s, ever, written, and most don’t think about it, is The Art of War, by Sun Tzu how many Reddit, the Art of War, new Year’s Eve Valkyrie board book called The Art of War for the new millennium, with the Art of War one of my favorite quotes is, every battle is won before it is ever fought, most princesses the truth is if you have to be a done your research most of them you would know if you want to succeed, no fail before you put in the dime, most entrepreneurs they always all ways and ideas, i did not worth anything is executions research, is everybody can come with idea, but one elegant idea is better than 1000 Sammy good ideas, What elegant idea soap.

Are these know what the lot is execution is to implementation, i’m not the most creative God I’ve never had an original idea to my life, don’t like them don’t want them, because I go to the bank when I deposit money tell is not going to ask me you know Dan, they should make the biggest money with the original ideas, no, she never asked me that, so I am not a an original thinker I’m not interested that I’m a synthesizer what I like, what to do is I like to take some best practices from different Industries, and I connect them together, so they say I traditionally I’m in this industry and everybody does certain same things a certain way right, set a time and I’d like to borrow some best practices from other Industries, let me do this, and then I got the Breakthrough fessel Brillion what’s so brilliant about it, And it’s been doing this for 20 years but this one was different industry, so one of the things I would suggest read Publications magazines block, outside of your industry, that’s how you get out of the box idea, play my podcast, one time I was interviewing, the founder of priceline.com heard of priceline.com, yeah I’m Jeff Jeff Hoffman I was talking with Jeff podcast and Jeff was telling, telling me that, how he came up with the priceline.com idea was, one time he was reading a magazine some kind of article about, fruit, fruit and how there’s a company basically they sell fruit, but they do in a way that, alyssa you have a banana and is scratching itself, those bad right so everyday that goes by this company they would lower the amount of, Not the amount of money they sell the price for this, please tap the fruit, so just read the article and that’s how he got the idea well how come we can’t do the same with Hotel, what is Hotel Des laube agency in just sitting there it cost us money for the cleaner to be there he cost us money, for the air conditioning, and all these space that they don’t sell that maybe we could we cancelled our website, that’s how you came up with priceline.com, i need the original idea, listen to interview it’s not that original, but that’s how you get breaks, dominique Jones, compete second is verify don’t assume, verify don’t assume, the number one key, the number one key to business success, is to avoid bad, assumptions, is the number one key, two pieces access avoid bad assumptions, most businesses fail because, the entrepreneur assumes, It’s a good idea, assume everybody would want this, assume the marketing woodwork, does ultra produce when naturally optimistic yes yes we we look at the good side of things yes, how is going to work I’m saying and I was very very optimistic and that’s how I lost most of my money, okay so now I’m more of a realist I’m more like a professor professor professor of, fox reality, through that experience so now I am optimistic, but the same time I verify I I go through I ask myself the questions what could go wrong that’s a very good, good questions to ask yourself what could go wrong, not what happens if everything goes right, now what could go wrong, another very good question I have on my desk, what could go wrong, and what don’t I see, what don’t I see, what do I say, Oh yeah when I launched this you know my business so you know I don’t have any business experience I’ve got this great.

Idea I’m sure when I launch it in 30 days I’m going to make $100,000, that’s an an, assumption, how do you know, when would it be doesn’t, what if only it doesn’t make $100,000, you don’t make any money the first month, what is Integrative Medicine second one, what else you don’t make any money the first year, what if you don’t make any money the second year, it’s way better to think about it, think about it, who has, a higher probability of success to people, this person saying you don’t want, i’ve got this idea I’m going to go to Marketplace, and it’s going to be so easy, you know I’m going to lunch and I’m going to be profitable day one, okay and people would love it and they would tell their friends about it, Once they see it oh my God man there they will beat a path to my door, and I’ll be rich, in one year, better start looking at a house in a new car, this entrepreneur you know what, i’ve got this idea, i think it’s a, decent product but I’m not so sure as some assumptions in my mind, let me verify who are the competitors in the marketplace, how long they been in there, what’s the profit margin other products good how big is the customer base what about the growth, what about new threats, can I pick a cheaper can I ask you to make a cheaper let me talk to some vendors baby from China from India, see how much they can manufacture their for what exactly is a marketing cost what’s my plan what’s my strategy, What if I run out of money, well better keep some savings that you know how long can it last, don’t have enough cash I can last one year or two year, who is going to more likely to succeed, this one is avoiding bad assumption, this one is in Disneyland, nothing, this is this is entrepreneur so with optimistic, but we want to verify you want to challenge your idea, that’s why sometimes you ask me questions, it just nobody’s asking you these tough questions, all your friends yes, awesome go forth and then let me stick my life savings into it and then, when the Party’s ready you go to demi sexual by something, above idea, i support you I love you but I’m not going to buy, shut up what to tell me earlier, sono when I talk to people and say I love your idea okay credit card, Nothing to order, would you buy some oh no I don’t want to buy something why do you say you love my dear, feel like my idea, so that’s what I mean, verified on resume, it’s because of bad assumptions so don’t assume, verify your Intel, think they’re thinking going back to the Art of War is, intel intelligence, business is an intellectual sport, business is a what, who is not about who has the most amount of money, is who has the most money intelligence, who has Intel but who has access, to information, that person that entrepreneurs going to win, make sense, okay, last lesson, send Tyson a little bit what Mike was talking about, and that is very valuable, i know the person you’re looking at numbers and all that I can see some of you are texting on your thing and, and not paying attention, I was observing.

Cuz it wasn’t that interesting, what is actually important, sometimes an entrepreneur, the stop the Isuzu, that you’re not interested, that’s the f****** thing you need, because at an entrepreneur if you cannot read financials you’re f*****, cuz I mean you would think, i’ll sit on clematis when I see my friends Revenue every single year, it’s like going up like that, suddenly, next year the out of business bankrupt, i said what the hell happened, they don’t we financials they look at the revenue oh yeah this year make it half a million next you’re making me lyrics There’s 1.5 minutes, play me high more people what they don’t know this is rubbing his going up properties doing what, the only purpose of a business is to provide you with the future stream of learning so I will go with an entrepreneurship, turn assets, into Revenue, Put apples into what, and then from revenue into profit, from rubbing to what, profit from property into, cash, cash, is cash, flow management, no company goes out of business, because too much is not Revenue, every single company goes out of business because they run out of, cash, is cash, they can meet the payroll they can’t they can’t pay for the lease, that’s what’s the problem, so they look at all your revenues good to even Prophet Prophet it just a theory because you can’t go to the bank and say and deposit them, they look at Pop is good but exactly identity how much are you put it into your pocket, how much cash you have in your bank account that’s why don’t you look it up, cash them in the background if they run out of cash, i’m paranoid, about my company’s paranoid, i want to have a lot of cash, Nhmi companies, is my company last lesson and that is, be somebody, be somewhere, and do something, be somebody be somewhere, and do something, be something be somebody meaning that you want to be, receive I see the expert in your field you want to be perceived, isaiah 40 in your few want to be perceived as a number one person in your fear be somebody how could you do that, what the experts do they have what, what do they do, what do they do, what do they do, the teacher to educate they have, they have a book, they speak, play Pablo, thank you interview was yes, so put on a different hat so if experts they write books they speak they published they teach, so if I do these things, it makes me on, an expert, it’s not like they are an expert then they do these things no you do these things, Dad you are an expert, a chicken egg, so be somebody somewhere meaning attending conferences, meeting with people, connecting with people, don’t just walk up to somebody you know what I’ve got this product you know what y’all can I tell you some stuff, not like that I’m talking relationship, being somewhere, and doing something, doesn’t matter what it is, little bit of something, everyday, is, like most entrepreneurs and his last thought I would leave you is that they get discouraged and to give up because, cuz again they assume they have this unrealistic expectation, let me tell the story, analogy, bellevue, think of, i got two people, who want to lose weight, this person is saying in a while, i want to look for it and I wanted it before summer I want to get a six-pack and I’m kind of single you know, That that motivation so you know what to do.

I’m going to go to the gym you know once a week and I’m going to do about you know 20 minutes of cardio and maybe, couple punches, then I have a six pack out, that’s how much massage parlor sting, incepto that’s an unrealistic expectation, that they what, what are the chances of this guy get a six pack out, on the other hand, this guy, you know what, i want to get a 6-pack abbottswell, and my instructor my training set, i got to go in you know three times a week I got to kind of watch my diet, i got to at least an hour of cardio, and then maybe you know a couple of hundred crunches everyday, okay, but you know what just in case, i’m going to go to the gym 5 times a day 5 times a week, 2 hours a day not a hundred crunches I’m going to do 200 crunches, plus I’m getting some cardio on top of that let me run in order to miles, what effect has activity of thinking that it takes, to cut through the noise whatever activity you think it takes to make that sell, to grow your company whatever amount you thinking, just 10 exit, dustpan exit, then you won’t get discouraged because now your expectation has been adjust, then you don’t get this car maybe it doesn’t take 10 x d activities in effort, but I guarantee you if you actually 10 times you’re thinking and 10 * 2 activities you expectation, chances of succeeding is way higher does that make sense, yes, that’s all I have thank you very much.

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