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loki-hargreeves · 3 years

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Loki x Reader - Thanos controls You

Warnings: angst, mentions of torture, mind-control, fighting, choking, blood and gore, more angst (it's a lot ok)

Word Count: 5,8K

Summary: After failing to deliver the Tesseract, Loki has been living in fear that Thanos will one day find him again and seek revenge. You have been missing ever since Loki was imprisoned after what he did in New York. Little did Loki know that you were with Thanos all along. During the events of Infinity War, Thanos makes you battle Loki in order to obtain the Tesseract

Author’s Note: I know Thanos doesn’t have the mind stone at the beginning of Infinity War but it’s fiction and I’m gonna do what Marvel does best, ignore canon. Let’s blame the Other’s powers, okay? Please enjoy this angsty little thing! :)

YOUR POV

“There’s room for more!” Loki yelled over the cries of scared children and their crying families. There was no way he would send a half-empty escape pod on its way to Midgard. That’s when he saw a child all by herself a little further away. She was clinging onto the wall for dear life and the ship trembled due to the impact of getting shot at. Her parents were nowhere to be seen. Dead. Loki felt sick to his stomach when he knew they were most likely dead. Thanos’ children were slaying kids and their parents heartlessly and they had the audacity to say they were being rescued. That their deaths were part of something bigger than life itself.

They viewed Thanos as a god who was being merciful even when he ripped a beating heart out of someone's chest.

Loki’s heart clenched in his chest painfully. Before it would be too late, he made his way to the tiny child and picked her up carefully. She seemed to recognize the prince but she wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, she hugged Loki so she wouldn’t fall out of his grasp.

“Where’s mommy?” The girl sounded absolutely petrified.

Loki didn’t know what to say as he made his way to the pod. Once he reached it, he saw a woman by the entrance.

“You’ll be safe here,” Loki promised the child as he handed her over to the lady. That’s all he had time for as he returned to the corridor. A particularly loud blast made him stumble over his feet and he had to catch his balance by taking support from the metal wall. The lights flickered, which meant the electronics of the ship were injured. There was a strange smokey smell in the air, which lingered with the irony stench of blood.

Loki couldn’t believe this was happening. Had Thanos finally come for him? Or did Thanos somehow know of the tesseract? Either way, if Thanos succeeded, he would kill two birds with one stone. The thought of this being all his fault made Loki nauseous. Guilt was nibbling at his skin and he knew it would eat him alive in the end. He never wished for this to happen!

As he ran down the corridors frantically searching for Asgardians that needed help, he heard different kinds of cries. People were letting out guttural screams. Others were pleading for their lives. Listening to the massacre that was taking place was worse than any nightmare Loki ever recalled having. They were all drained after Ragnarok and now Thanos had found them. It was haunting how ruthless fate could be.

Footsteps began to approach Loki and they were awfully close. Too close for his liking. He was quick to grab his daggers and turn to face whoever dared try to sneak up on him. When he saw a familiar figure, he nearly dropped the blades from his hands. Seeing you there was like shock itself punched him in the face.

You were there, real and clear as day.

How long had it been since the last time he saw you?

Ever since Loki had found out about his true nature, his life had gone downhill. After he ended up with Thanos and went through pure hell with him, he had changed. During his time away from Asgard, he had only missed one person truly - you. You, who had been by his side through everything. You, who hadn’t loved him any less when you saw his deep blue skin and those crimson red eyes that in Loki’s mind resembled blood. You, who had seen him as the rightful king of Asgard when everyone else betrayed him. The light of his life, the angel that had cared for him even when he felt like a monster.

You, who hadn’t been on Asgard when Thor brought him back to face Odin in trial. Loki had spent a lot of time in his cell, alone. He waited for you to appear but you never did and no one ever told him why. They rather left him to drown in his own vicious thoughts. It wasn’t until Loki pretended to be Odin that he began to learn what had happened on Asgard during his exile.

The people at the palace loved to gossip. Some claimed you had stolen a ship and left Asgard behind for good, that living as Loki’s widow had been too hard for you. In Loki’s darkest hours, he wondered if you truly felt ashamed for being associated with him. So ashamed in fact, that you had left it all behind and started anew. Sometimes, he believed that, but it never stopped him from trying to find you. He had searched night and day but it seemed like you had vanished into thin air. It had killed him more every day living in the unknown. His only wish had been that you were okay.

Now there you were, looking like you had never left. In a moment of pure shock, Loki couldn’t even begin to comprehend how you appeared on the ship - seemingly out of nowhere. He was happy to see you, despite how appalling everything else was at that moment.

“Y/N,” Loki spoke your name softly and dared to blink. When you were still there as he opened his eyes, he felt goosebumps all over his skin.

You looked at him so innocently, but then he noticed that something was off. The look in your eyes was cold. You weren’t in your typical Asgardian gear. Instead, you were dressed in dark armour that Loki could’ve sworn he had seen before, but he didn’t know where. Nevertheless, it made him feel uneasy.

“It’s been a while, Loki,” You attempted a smile as you walked closer to him, your husband. It still counted since he had never truly died, right?

Loki didn’t stop you as you walked right up to him. His eyes never left yours. Part of him wanted to kiss you, to hold you and feel you were real, but the shrieks in the background reminded him of how dangerous everything was. The daggers disappeared from his hands and Loki held you by your shoulders. He needed to see that his hands wouldn't go right through you, that he hadn't lost it.

“You need to get off this ship, Y/N!” He told you seriously. There was profound fear in his voice.

Instead of being worried at all, you just smiled back at him.

That was so unlike you.

“Y/N, do you hear me?”

“Oh, I do,” You confirmed nonchalantly, “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

A bloodcurdling cry startled Loki. They were coming closer and closer. The two of you wouldn’t be safe in that passageway for long. By now, his heart was racing with his thoughts. He felt panic settling into his bones.

Before Loki could say another word, you cupped his face rather gently. The fact that you didn’t seem disturbed by what was happening was eerie to Loki. He knew that you had a heart much bigger than anyone else he knew of. The version of you he remembered wouldn’t have been so calm. Something was terribly wrong.

“I need something,” You admitted and batted your eyelashes. Before, Loki would’ve found that quite adorable, but at that moment it was so wrong. He had been so ecstatic to see you and know you were alive, but now he almost wanted to run the other way.

“What?” Loki barely found his voice at that point. He felt sick and heartbroken. This had to be a nightmare, the worst kind.

“The Tesseract, Loki. I really need it,” You blurted it out.

Shivers ran down his spine. How did you know about it? Why did you even care? He was unsure if he could even trust you with the knowledge that he had it in his possession. Usually, he would’ve trusted you with his life without any hesitation, but you had been gone for years and returned like this, with bizarre motives.

You returned at the same time as Thanos and you were looking for the tesseract. Loki wasn’t a fool. He finally put two and two together and the realization was too arduous to believe. The idea of you and Thanos even meeting was something Loki could only see happening in his worst nightmares, but he was afraid it had already occurred. If so, he needed to hear it from you,

“Is Thanos making you do this?”

The tone of his voice seemed to offend you as you sent him a nasty glare. Your softness turned harsh and you pushed Loki against the metal wall with a loud thud. Before he could get out of the way, you grabbed your own dagger and pressed it against his neck so it was ever so slightly pressing against his exposed skin.

“He is not making me do anything. I am glad to serve the all-mighty Thanos. I won’t fail him, unlike you,” You snarled at Loki spitefully.

Never in a million years had Loki imagined this moment to happen. One where you would be fighting against each other. It was supposed to the two of you against the nine realms. Being held like that by the one person he loved more than anything was tearing his heart to shreds, but he tried not to show it.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t truly you. He knew exactly what Thanos had done to you so you would act like this, and it only made it hurt so much more. It felt like someone was pouring salt into an open wound, and his entire body, heart and soul were wounded.

“Now give me the tesseract and we will be on our merry way,” You tried to obtain it again. This time you seemed more serious. Was it the tone of your voice or your weapon pressed against his pulse? Loki didn’t know.

“I don’t have it,” Loki lied as smoothly as he could because even thinking straight at that moment felt impossible. The world was caving in around him at supersonic speed.

You pressed the sharp edge of the blade closer to him, feeling how just a little bit more pressure would've broken his skin “You’re a great liar, my dear, but I know that’s not the truth.”

Loki didn’t want to fight you, but he didn’t see another way out. And it was good for him that you had learned most of the tricks from him. Your every move would be more easily predictable for Loki. He had to find a way to distract you.

“Why do you need it?” That was a foolish question. He knew damn well what Thanos would do if he got his dirty hands on the infinity stones.

“Why do you care?” You didn’t answer his silly question.

Suddenly, Loki grabbed your wrist tightly and yanked your arm to the side. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but Loki knew you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

At least your weapon fell out of your hand, but you knew how to defend yourself without it. So did Loki.

Loki tried to turn things around so he would have you pinned down against the wall, but you didn’t let him get that far. As he turned you around so your back was pressed firmly against his chest, you kicked your legs against the wall hard, pushing both of you back. Loki took the biggest impact as he fell on the floor, with you on top of him. Quickly, you rolled out of his grasp, turning around in one swift movement so that you were now sat on top of him, with your legs tightly against both his sides.

A powerful orb of magic grew above your fingertips and you brought it closer to Loki’s face - so close that he could feel the heat of your burning powers. The magic created an electric sensation on your skin. It felt like you pushed your fingers deep into warm sand. Toying with it was exhilarating, and seeing the astonished look on Loki’s face made it so much better. The green light of your powers cast light in his eyes, only deepening the look of disbelief that was painted all over him.

“It’s sweet that you’re trying not to hurt me,” You taunted him at that point, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”

“This isn’t you, Y/N,” Loki groaned. He was so sure of himself.

You tilted your head and smirked, looking at him like a cat would at a mouse. “I don’t know, Loki. It’s been a while,” You explained casually and leaned closer and closer to his face, stopping when your noses brushed against one another. By now, Loki was frozen on the spot. He was trying to come up with a plan and he felt hopeless.

“I’ve changed,” You whispered to him and felt tempted to kiss him, to taste him. Would you taste his fear? His heartbreak? You were sure it would taste sweet.

“The torture must’ve been painful,” Loki pushed his feelings aside. Yes, he felt like his heart had been ripped to shreds, but he had to do something. He had to surprise you, even if it would hurt. Words could hurt more than actions, and if Loki wanted to survive and to help you, he needed to reach the real you even if the only way to do so was cruel.

How did he know? You narrowed your eyes and surprisingly, found yourself waiting for him to continue.

"I was trained well."

"Trained?" Loki spat out harshly, "I know you're afraid. He has promised you something worse than the pain he has inflicted on you already. It won't happen. If you let Thanos continue his reign, he will not care about your loyalty!"

"Shut up!" That was too much for you. With tears brimming your eyes from anger, you put your hand over his mouth to silence him. He didn't budge and you didn't know why.

You pushed the memories aside. The painful memories of the time Thanos first found you. It was wrong to think of it as torture. No, he had shown you what you're truly capable of. It was training. Training to become a stronger person after the hell you endured on Asgard.

But now that you found yourself thinking about it, it seemed like the memories were all blurred as if you were looking into the past through a broken lens. Someone had spilt oil all over it and the pictures were warped.

"I know you have it," You needed the tesseract. "Give it to me and then this will all be over," you removed your hand from his mouth because it looked like he wanted to speak.

Loki knew that if he’d push you, your magic could burn him, but at the moment he couldn’t come up with another plan. He couldn’t just stay on the ground as people were being killed on the other side of the wall!

"Okay," Loki blurted out. Okay?

For a moment, he had you surprised which was the perfect distraction.

Loki grabbed your wrists tightly and pushed you to the side, but not quickly enough. You released your magic and it graced the side of his face, making him growl out either in pain or frustration - or both. The two of you rolled over and this time Loki was on top, holding your arms pinned above your head. You were trapped because of one mistake. You couldn't believe Loki had used the element of surprise to turn the situation upside down.

Furiously, you tried to kick your legs free, but he had you pinned down beneath him and Loki was strong. There was no point in squirming, you had to come up with another idea.

The two of you faced each other and Loki revealed his face and the damage you had done. Your magic had burned his skin and left a bloody cut on his eyebrow. It had just barely missed his eye. If he lived, it would surely leave a scar.

You flinched when a drop of his blood hit your cheek and it rolled down the side of your face.

"What are you going to do, kill me?"

Loki could never bring himself to kill you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself with your blood on his hands. No. He had other ideas. Loki remembered what it was like to be under Thanos' control. He remembered how much it hurt to even think about the torture. He had to remind you, he had to make you see that this wasn't the real you.

"This version of you, or I certainly hope so," Loki replied mysteriously. Before you could ask him to elaborate, Loki released your wrist and slammed the palm of his hand against your forehead. In a split second, you were in a different place - in your head. You could've sworn you heard him mutter "I'm sorry," before everything turned black.

It was hot, burning hot. Metal chains were attached to you and they were glowing red. Torching. You could only scream in pain as the metal sunk into your skin, your bones, your nerves. It felt like he had chained your mind and with the tiniest movement of his finger, he could make you do his dirty work.

He, Thanos, was sitting on his throne. He was the puppet master and you the puppet. He didn't look at you fondly. No. He was smiling as he watched you cry your lungs out, letting out animalistic growls as the pain got worse. It was so overwhelming that every once in a while, you would scream until you passed out. But every time, one of his children would be there to wake you up.

It was time for another round. And another. And yet another. Would it ever end?

Each time you tried to resist the chains, the strings that were sewn onto you and connected to his fingertips, it hurt more. Eventually, you learned that allowing the strings to tighten around you made it hurt less. It almost felt good, like a long embrace after a long day.

"I don't want to hurt you, my child."

Lies. You knew that all he said were nasty lies, but sometimes it was easier to believe lies than the truth.

"Make it stop!" You would beg him. How long had you been there?

You could remember Thanos touching your face gently, which was so comforting after everything you had endured. At the same time, it made you sick. You couldn't believe that the one who had caused you distress could have such a gentle touch.

"You're ready," Thanos had realized. The Other had appeared right before you and his fingertips were pressed against one another, making him look like he was deep in thought. You had no idea what they were doing, but the next thing you knew was that you no longer felt pain.

The chains, the strings, they were all invisible. It looked like you were free, but the weight of the metal was still pressed against your skin. Had you imagined it?

No,

Deep down you knew that the strings were still attached to you, but they had only made it seem like you had a choice.

"Excellent," The Other's voice surprised you. You merely blinked and you had returned to the vessel. Loki was above you and the Other was standing right there, "You found him."

The Other used his powers to push Loki off you. Shock had made your entire body numb and you couldn't scramble up to your feet. It felt like your limbs had been turned to stone and you were anchored to the floor.

Loki got up slowly with his arms raised in surrender. He was well aware of the powers the Other had and Loki wasn't going to fight him now. If he followed you for long enough, then maybe just maybe he could come up with a plan. Loki looked at you as you finally got up. As you stood next to the Other, you couldn't believe your legs carried you. Something was so wrong. You felt sick and you couldn't shake it off. It felt like something had snapped within you, but you didn't know what.

"He is waiting for you," The Other explained as he turned to walk away, most likely to wherever Thanos was waiting.

Loki had no choice but to follow, and you walked behind, making sure he didn't try to escape.

Why did Loki make you remember that? What did he think he would obtain with making you relive something so awful? It hadn't worked, right?

There he was. Thanos was standing by a hole that had been ripped into the side of the ship. Magic was keeping it sealed so the vacuum of space wouldn't suck everyone into it. But still, the emptiness of space wasn't frightening at all compared to the titan who was standing right there.

Loki swallowed thickly as he saw him again. It had been years but he remembered everything like it had happened yesterday. Seeing Thanos standing in the middle of the piles of bodies, in the room that smelled like smoke and blood, was sickening. Thanos hadn't just killed a part of Loki. He had just slaughtered these innocent Asgardians with the help of his so-called children. He had taken you.

He will make you long for something as sweet as pain

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. They had stayed true to their threats.

"I know what it’s like to lose," Thanos turned around now that he knew Loki was there. At long last. Thanos had not forgotten what Loki had failed to do, and Thanos was a man of his words.

"To feel so desperately that you’re right yet to fail, nonetheless," Thanos continued dramatically and slowly made his way closer to Loki. He saw Thor on the ground, bloodied and weak. The brother of Loki. As tempting as the idea was to torture Thor right in front of the god of mischief, Thanos had different plans. If there was only one way Loki would ever give him the tesseract, it was going to be in order to save you. You were Loki's true weakness.

"It’s frightening. Turns the legs to jelly. I ask you, to what end?" Thanos looked Loki right in the eye. He could see that Loki was afraid, yet Loki never looked away from him. He was either too proud or fearless. Thanos had liked that about Loki initially. But he had failed Thanos greatly. It had cost him infinity stones.

"Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now, it’s here. Or should I say I am," Thanos finished his dramatics because it was time for action, to turn the wheels and see the bigger picture. This was the end of an era and a new beginning for a different universe. In Thanos' mind, only he could bring balance and order. He gestured for you to walk up to his side.

Too afraid of the idea of what would happen if you disobeyed, you walked right up to Thanos, feeling like a fly that was willingly flying into cobwebs. When you were close enough, you kneeled and dipped your head so he wouldn't see the worry in your eyes. It wasn't there before.

"I didn't obtain the tesseract from him, but I am sure that he has it, father," You muttered quietly. Why did you say that? There was a pounding headache growing within your skull. You didn't know what was right or wrong anymore and you couldn't fight it either.

Father

Loki clenched his jaw as he followed the situation closely. Hearing that made his blood boil. He wanted to rip Thanos apart after this. Never in a million years had he imagined this, to see you pledge your alliance to Thanos, kneeling before him and respecting him. Thanos didn't deserve that. Hell, Thanos didn't even deserve to look at you. It was wrong.

At that moment, Loki worried that his trick hadn't worked. That the memories hadn't awakened anything within you. That it was all too late now. This was the end, the one thing in life that was inevitable.

"I know, my child," Thanos let out a sigh. Then he grabbed you by your jaw like he had done before, forcing you to face him. "I know he has it," He repeated and suddenly his touch turned violent. He closed his hand around your neck tightly and you gasped for air helplessly. Your hands - tiny compared to his - grabbed his fingers and you tried to pry them apart, but he was tougher than you. Panic shot through your entire body when you realized you couldn't breathe. It turned your blood to ice and your poor heart was beating so hard you were afraid it would explode.

What was he doing?

The moment he pulled you to your feet, so high that you had to stand on the tips of your toes, he spoke, "The tesseract or her life," Thanos smiled devilishly, showing no remorse. He didn't care about you. You were a pawn in his game and if you would die at his feet, he would just walk over you and carry on.

"You choose," Thanos put the weight of the world on Loki's shoulders.

Loki wanted to rescue you from that monster, but he wasn't stupid. With all of Thanos' children surrounding him, he knew that he would be dead before he could reach you. Nonetheless, it didn't mean he wouldn't try. Seeing you clawing at Thanos' hand, fighting for something as simple as air and not getting it was heartbreaking. Loki's body was trembling with hatred and hurt. Tears blurred his vision and he struggled to keep his composure.

How had it all come to this?

The thought of Thanos with the tesseract was haunting. Soon he would have all the stones and he would destroy reality as they knew it. But Loki could live with that. He couldn't live knowing you had died when he had a chance to save you. Perhaps he was selfish for choosing you over the entire galaxy, but Loki didn't care. Nothing mattered if he would lose you again.

"Alright, stop!" Loki made up his mind. "I choose her," Finally, Thanos released his grip on you and let you fall on the cold ground. Your hands wrapped around your throat gently and you coughed painfully. It took you a while to finally breathe again, which was a huge relief for both Loki and you.

And now Loki was holding the tesseract. It was so bright that it painted the space blue. It was almost too bright to look at. The power within the stone was so strong, you could sense it like heat from the sun in spring after a long and cold winter. Loki was tempted to use the tesseract to grab you and escape, but he quickly shut those thoughts away. Thanos would follow him for the end of all days.

"You...you really are the worst, brother," Thor was following the situation to the best of his abilities. He spat out blood as he watched Loki holding the cube. It made him sad. Everything they ever knew was destroyed in the name of power, pure and raw power that the tesseract could offer. Was it worth it?

Loki glanced at Thor who was too weak to even get up. He didn't care too much about what he had to say. Then he looked at you. There you were, on the ground struggling to breathe after Thanos had crushed your windpipe. There was bruising on your skin that would only deepen with time. Time that you possibly wouldn't have after this.

He saw the tears running down your face, but you didn't sob and whimper. It seemed like you were as still as stone. You couldn't bring yourself to face Loki.

"I assure you," Loki found his voice and he addressed both you and Thor with his words, "the sun will shine on us again."

What did he mean by that?

You were ashamed to tilt your gaze to see him, to see the tesseract. The damn infinity stone had ruined it all! It was why Thanos had wrecked Loki, why he had destroyed you too. Why so many people were now dead. If you had one wish that could come true, you would wish for the tesseract to be destroyed forever.

Thanos had his back turned to you. Loki was slowly but surely making his way closer to the titan, almost like he was afraid to move but he forced his body to comply. Why? Why would he trade the tesseract for your life? It seemed like whatever spell you had been under had worn off. You were free, but it was more terrifying than being under Thanos' control under these circumstances. He didn't need you, and soon enough the vessel would be blown to bits. All of you, even Loki.

Would you be able to tell him how sorry you were?

"Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian," Thanos wasn't fond of Loki's strange choice of words.

"Well for one thing I'm not Asgardian," Loki replied quickly. It sounded a little bit witty, which was confusing. Where did the boost of confidence come from? Was he up to something?

"And for another," He continued dramatically. This time it was Thanos' turn to be confused.

"We have a Hulk."

Everything that happened after that happened so fast that you could hardly keep up with it. Loki dropped the tesseract and he leapt toward you. Thanos barely had time to turn around when a huge, green beast appeared out of nowhere and it seemed angry. It was eager to fight the titan.

Loki had you up on your feet in no time and the two of you ran away from the immediate danger. He led you to one of the many corridors on the vessel until no one could possibly see you. They were too distracted by the Hulk to even think about Loki and you. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you could comprehend what was going on. He was kneeling on the floor and you were sat against the wall for support. Your hands were trembling so hard, it seemed like you were freezing up and you couldn't make it stop.

Loki had tricked Thanos.

He was relieved when you didn't fight him, yet he was unsure if it meant you were no longer under Thanos' control, or if you were simply too tired to fight.

He cupped your face gently and searched for answers in your expression. Back in the day, he had been able to read you like an open book.

You put your hands around his wrists and pulled him closer. You were desperate for the comfort he could bring in the midst of the living hell you were stuck in. How did he not hate you?

"I'm s- I'm sorry," You whimpered, finally cracking like a plate that had fallen on the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," Loki couldn't possibly let you apologize for what had happened. He was possibly the one person who understood exactly what you had gone through and what it was like to follow orders from that monster. There was not an ounce of judgement to be found in his heart.

What mattered now was that you were together again. You could come up with a plan, but you had to work fast. As much as Loki wanted to hold you and comfort you, to feel that you were real, he knew there wasn't enough time for that.

"We need to get off this thing," Loki's mind was running a marathon as he tried to come up with an escape plan.

"They're gonna blow it up," You explained, feeling how bad your lips were quivering as you spoke. The moment Thanos had what he came for, they would leave and destroy everything they'd leave behind.

Shivers ran down Loki's spine as he heard that. It only confirmed that you had to act quickly. Loki wasn't sure how long the Hulk could fight Thanos. Would they be able to rescue Thor? How much time did they have?

The blood in the wound you had caused on his face was beginning to dry. It looked gnarly and all you wanted was to make it all better. Knowing that you had hurt him made you sick with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Loki. I didn't w-want to fight you," You sniffled, breaking Loki's train of thought. For the first time, he felt lost. He didn't really know what to do. Were there any escape pods left?

"I know," Loki assured you. "I know that. I was in your shoes when I was on Midgard," He explained briefly, unaware whether or not you knew of it. Had Thanos talked about him to you?

A sense of impending doom weighed you two down. If this was the end, then at least you were together, right? You and Loki against the nine realms, you would face the end together if there wasn't another way out. Whenever you had pictured your final day, you had imagined something entirely different than this. You would be old together, with hundreds of stories of your shared life. You would be surrounded by people you cared about. It would be calm, the exact opposite of this.

"I love you," You needed to tell him that. Any moment could be your last. The world would cave in and you would be gone forever.

Loki hated how much that sounded like a farewell, but at the same time, it had been so long since he had last heard those three words, let alone from you. Perhaps it was sick and twisted, but it made him smile.

"I love you too," Loki was sure of it. He had never stopped loving you and he didn't think he was even capable of that.

It seemed like you acted on instinct. You found enough strength to push yourself right against Loki. There was no hesitation in your actions as you kissed him. Loki closed his eyes when he felt your trembling lips pressed against his. Your scent, still sweet and familiar despite it all, punched its way into his lungs. He held your face gently but the kiss was passionate, almost despairing.

You wanted to scream out in agony because at last, you were reunited with Loki but not in the way you imagined. You felt like the shell of the person you were before, and now you knew for a fact that Thanos had done the exact same things to Loki. That titan had killed your souls beyond repair. But all you could do was kiss Loki and hold him and hope that he could feel how sorry you were. You didn't want to let go, afraid that if you did, it would all end. Just like that.

Loki broke the kiss, and for a moment you rested your foreheads against one another like you had done so many times before. It was comforting. You both wanted to stay close like that, but you recognised that you couldn't. Letting go of each other and getting up on your weary feet was so incredibly difficult, but it had to be done.

The world around you began to glow brighter. You quickly held onto Loki, startled as the mysterious light surrounded the two of you.

Loki held his breath as he studied the warm glimmering magic that had swallowed you. In between the bright rays of light, he saw all the colours of the rainbow. Shimmering. He saw reds and blues, yellows and greens, shining brighter than the other and it changed smoothly.

The Bifrost

He didn't know how or why, but he knew for a fact that you were in the magical portal. He couldn't see beyond it anymore. He couldn't feel the floor beneath his feet. It was like he was levitating mid-air, with you tightly in his arms.

Heimdall must've conjured the forefathers, letting their powers flow through him one last time. Where to? Loki assumed that anywhere would be better than where they had been mere seconds ago.

And it was a miracle.

A/N: I think it would've made more sense for Heimdall to send Thor or Loki to earth rather than the Hulk. So that's why I ended it like that

I'd absolutely love to hear your feedback! <3

TAGS:

Loki: @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @castiels-majestic-wings @lucywrites02 @myraiswack @prettysbliss @weirdfangirl2416

Forever Taglist: @iraniq @embrycallsgirl @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13 @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing @klanceiscannon14 @i-have-arrived-bitch

#Loki #Loki fic #Loki fanfiction #Loki oneshot #Loki x You #Loki x Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #tw angst #Loki angst #Loki/You

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balioc · 4 years

Text

A Taxonomy of Magic

This is a purely and relentlessly thematic/Doylist set of categories.

The question is: What is the magic for, in this universe that was created to have magic?

Or, even better: What is nature of the fantasy that’s on display here?

Because it is, literally, fantasy. It’s pretty much always someone’s secret desire.

(NOTE: “Magic” here is being used to mean “usually actual magic that is coded as such, but also, like, psionics and superhero powers and other kinds of Weird Unnatural Stuff that has been embedded in a fictional world.”)

(NOTE: These categories often commingle and intersect. I am definitely not claiming that the boundaries between them are rigid.)

I. Magic as The Gun That Can Be Wielded Only By Nerds

Notable example: Dungeons & Dragons

Of all the magic-fantasies on offer, I think of this one as being the clearest and most distinctive. It’s a power fantasy, in a very direct sense. Specifically, it’s the fantasy that certain mental abilities or personality traits -- especially “raw intelligence” -- can translate directly into concrete power. Being magical gives you the wherewithal to hold your own in base-level interpersonal dominance struggles.

(D&D wizardry is “as a science nerd, I can use my brainpower to blast you in the face with lightning.” Similarly, sorcery is “as a colorful weirdo, I can use my force of personality to blast you in the face with lightning,” and warlockry is “as a goth/emo kid, I can use my raw power of alienation to blast you in the face with lightning.”)

You see this a lot in media centered on fighting, unsurprisingly, and it tends to focus on the combative applications and the pure destructive/coercive force of magic (even if magic is notionally capable of doing lots of different things). It often presents magic specifically as a parallel alternative to brawn-based fighting power. There’s often an unconscious/reflexive trope that the heights of magic look like “blowing things up real good” / “wizarding war.”

II. Magic as The Numinous Hidden Glory of the World

Notable examples: Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, H.P. Lovecraft’s Dream Cycle

The point of magic, in this formulation, is that it is special. It is intrinsically wondrous and marvelous. Interacting with it puts you in a heightened-state-of-existence. It is -- ultimately -- a metaphor for The Secret Unnameable Yearnings of Your Soul, the glorious jouissance that always seems just out of reach.

It doesn’t so much matter how the magic actually functions, or even what outcomes it produces. The important thing is what magic is, which is...magical.

This is how you get works that are all about magic but seem entirely disinterested in questions like “what can you achieve with magic?,” “how does the presence of magic change the world?,” etc. One of the major ways, anyway.

The Numinous Hidden Glory fantasy often revolves around an idea of the magic world, the other-place where everything is drenched in jouissance. [Sometimes the magic world is another plane of existence, sometimes it’s a hidden society within the “real world,” doesn’t matter.] The real point of magic, as it’s often presented, is being in that magic world; once you’re there, everything is awesome, even if the actual things you’re seeing and doing are ordinary-seeming or silly. A magic school is worlds better than a regular school, because it’s magic, even if it’s got exactly the same tedium of classes and social drama that you know from the real world.

Fantasies of this kind often feature a lot of lush memorable detail that doesn’t particularly cohere in any way. It all just adds to the magic-ness.

III. Magic as the Atavistic Anti-Civilizational Power

Notable examples: A Song of Ice and Fire, Godzilla

According to the terms of this fantasy, the point of magic is that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense within the logic of civilized human thought, anyway. It is nature and chaos given concrete form; it is the thing that tears away at the systems that we, in our [Promethean nobility / overweening hubris], try to build.

There’s not a baked-in value judgment here. This kind of magic can be presented as good, bad, or some of both. Same with civilization, for that matter.

It’s often presented as Old Myths and Folkways that have More Truth and Power Than Seems Reasonable. Narratively, it often serves as a dramatized version of the failure of episteme, and of the kind of entropic decay that in real life can take centuries to devour empires and ideologies.

This kind of magic is almost always the province of savages, actual inhuman monsters, or (occasionally) the very downtrodden.

(I think it is enormously telling that in A Song of Ice and Fire -- a series that is jammed full of exotic cults and ancient half-forgotten peoples, all of whom have magic that seems to work and beliefs that at least touch on mysterious truths -- only the Westerosi version of High Medieval Catholicism, the religion to which most of the people we see notionally adhere, is actually just a pack of empty lies.)

IV. Magic as an Overstuffed Toybox

Notable examples: Naruto, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Or, sometimes, we care about what magic actually does. More than that -- sometimes we want to see magic doing really interesting things, and then other magic intersecting with it in ways that are even more interesting.

The fantasy here, in simplest terms, is “magic can achieve any arbitrary cool effect.” There doesn’t tend to be an overarching system that explains how it’s all supposed to come together, or if there is, it tends to be kind of lame and hand-wavey -- a rigorous system of Magic Physics, delineating the limits of the possible, would get in the way of all the cool effects we want to show!

Once again, this shows up a lot in combat-heavy narratives. Less with the genericized D&D-style “magic is a fist that can punch harder than your regular meat fist,” and more with people throwing weird and wacky powers at each other in order to show how those powers can be used creatively to overcome opposition. Sometimes, instead of combat, you get magicians using their cool-effects magic to MacGuyver their way out of problems or even trying to resolve large-scale social problems. Issues of magic usage within the narrative being “fair” or “unfair” or “cheesy” are important here in ways that they generally aren’t elsewhere, since the fantasy on offer comes close to being a game.

(Ratfic often falls into this category.)

V. Magic as Alternate-Universe Science

Notable examples: the Cosmere books

This covers most of what gets called “hard fantasy.” The fantasy on offer is a pretty straightforward one -- “magic has actual rules, you can learn them, and once you’ve learned them you can make predictions and achieve outcomes.” It’s puzzle-y in the way that the previous fantasy was game-y. It’s often a superstimulus for the feeling of learning a system in the way that video game grinding is a superstimulus for the feeling of rewarding labor.

The magic effects on offer tend to be less ridiculous and “broken” than toybox magic, because any logic you can use to achieve a ridiculous effect is going to influence the rest of the magic system, and special cases that aren’t grounded in sufficiently-compelling logic will ruin the fantasy.

Not super common.

VI. Magic as Psychology-Made-Real

Notable examples: Revolutionary Girl Utena, Persona

This kind of magic makes explicit, and diagetic, what is implicit and metatextual in most fantasy settings. The magic is an outgrowth of thought, emotion, and belief. Things have power in the world because they have power in your head. The things that seem real in the deepest darkest parts of your mind are actually real.

This is where you get inner demons manifested as actual demons (servile or hostile or anything in between), swords forged from literal hope, dungeons and labyrinths custom-tailored to reflect someone’s trauma, etc.

The fantasy, of course, is that your inner drama matters.

My personal favorite.

VII. Magic as Pure Window Dressing

Notable examples: later Final Fantasy games, Warhammer 40K

This one is weird; it doesn’t really make sense on its own, only metatextually. I think of its prevalence as an indicator of the extent to which fantasy has become a cultural staple.

The fantasy on offer in these works is that you are in a fantasy world that is filled with fantasy tropes. And that’s it.

Because the important thing here is that the magic doesn’t really do anything at all, or at least, it doesn’t do anything that non-magic can’t do equally well. It doesn’t even serve as an indication that Things are Special, because as presented in-setting, magic isn’t Special. Being a wizard is just a job, like being a baker or a tailor or something -- or, usually, like being a soldier, because the magic on offer is usually a very-simple kind of combat magic. And unlike in D&D, it’s not like magic is used only or chiefly by a particularly noteworthy kind of person. It’s just...there.

The great stories of the world, in these works, don’t tend to feature magic as anything more than a minor element. The point is to reassure the audience that this is the kind of world, the kind of story, that has magic.

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

Thoughts? Critiques? Other categories to suggest?

#media analysis

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the-chick-of-the-air · 3 years

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Hello my lovelies!!

Ok let me just start by saying- 600 followers?! Are you kidding?? Thank you all SO much! I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have every single one of you interested enough in my blog to be following me! Thank you thank you thank you!!!🥰🥰

Now I’m gonna repay you by breaking your hearts!

This is my first try at anything super angsty, so if your gonna yell at me afterwards please feel free to do so in the comments or in my ask box or even just reblogging and cursing me in the tags🤣 please let me know what you think!

TW: Major character death, mentions of vomiting and allusions to body mutilation- nothing graphic just vaguely indicated but whatever you are comfortable with is up to you! If any of what I warned makes you uncomfortable please don’t read! Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction!

Update: I’m sorry- I posted this and for some reason the tag list wasn’t working but it should be now! If your username has changed please let me know so I can tag you properly down below!❤️

Summary: Someone important dies. Cardan deals with it. Grab your tissues❤️

Final Resting Place

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” The folk are not in the habit of apologizing, much less for something that is so common. It matters not, Cardan has ceased listening, has heard nothing after The Bomb uttered those damning words.

Jude is dead.

He recalls, distantly, a time when Nicasia drug him halfway to her underwater kingdom, wishing to show him its beauty and splendor. He recalls how helpless he felt, how he could breathe but it wasn’t right. How he was silenced and the pressure from the water was crushing his chest so painfully it didn’t matter if he could breathe or not.

This feels near exactly like that.

“Your Highness?” Someone is asking a question he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t even ask them to repeat themselves. All he can do is state,

“She is to be brought back here. Burned on the pyres.” A Queen’s funeral. The only funerals the folk bothered to observe.

Someone, The Roach, likely, grunts in disapproval, “She… we…are not able to bring the body back. It was…”

Cardan isn’t sure what part of that statement makes his stomach churn the worst, the fact that they just referred to his wife, their queen as a body, or the fact that there apparently isn’t too much of her body to bring back.

He tries not to think, not to guess at what death was so brutal that she doesn’t even have a body left.

And that really is it, isn’t it? She, his fierce, vibrant, deadly queen, who always looked over her shoulder, is- was always so cautious, secretly ruling over a land that was designed to kill her, the mighty Jude Duarte, slayer of the folk-

Killed by something mortal.

In the mortal lands.

Where he sent her.

It was almost laughable, Cardan did laugh. Hysteria bubbling up in his chest like bile, which it might have been because suddenly the churning in his stomach was no longer violent but imminent and he’s throwing himself into the bathing chamber.

He doesn’t hear the court of shadows, her court of shadows, retreating as he retches into the chamber pot.

~.~

Time has lost all meaning.

It’s been days, weeks, months. The days pass in a blur, marked only by those who knew what she meant to him coming to give their condolences. Like it could lessen the pain of her being gone. Lessen the pain that came with the knowledge that this was his fault.

It was so ironic it hurt. Had he not exiled her to the mortal lands for her protection, she would have still been alive, ruling where she belonged, right by his side.

And now, she would never get to rule her kingdom openly. She would never share his throne, his crown, his name, his bed again.

She was gone before he got to have her.

And it was his own damn fault.

He refused to hold any audience with Taryn. It wasn’t fair, her twin was dead and she was parading around wearing her face. He knew that should he take one look at her, he would break beyond recognition.

The only thing keeping him alive on the throne being Jude’s memory, how she would have wanted, commanded him to keep ruling, even if she wasn’t there to do it with him.

He did allow an audience with Viviane, once. She had all but demanded it and would hardly take no for an answer. She arrived, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as terrible as he felt which didn’t seem fair either.

He wanted to be alone in his pain, for it to be all his own, because no one could understand, could relate to how he felt for her. Why should they share in his grief? The newest plate of armor he has cast over his heart?

She wasted no time on condolences, which in itself was strangely comforting. She got straight to the point, “You missed the funeral.”

“A mortal tradition.” His voice was hoarse with disuse. Had he gone so long without speaking to anyone? That didn’t seem possible.

“Dammit Cardan! She would have wanted you there.” Her anger was refreshing, a nice change of pace compared to the complete emptiness that was left behind in the shape of a mortal footprint upon his heart.

He almost wants to disagree, but that would make no sense. The folk can’t lie, not even half-fae.

When he doesn’t respond, Vivi crosses her arms, “Will you at least come visit her? Say your goodbyes? You have to say yes, we both know you need it.”

And painful as it was, she was right. The one thing that hurt worse than Jude being dead, knowing that it was because of him, was that he didn’t get to say goodbye. That all his letters to her went unanswered. That she died without knowing how much he needed her. How much he missed her and all she was to him. How much he…

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he silently rises and follows Vivi to his queen’s final resting place.

~.~

The mortal world is bright and loud and reeks of iron and is so alive it feels audacious. How dare anyone else continue living when someone from this place, someone so important, so above them was forced to forfeit that right?

The plot of land where she- what’s left of her- is laid to rest is small. The headstone sits, new and clean, next to two more that are dulled with age.

Justin and Eva Duarte.

Madoc had somehow procured graves for the two mortals he slaughtered, and now their youngest daughter lay beside them.

They are standing there for ten minutes before Vivi speaks, “You know, when someone visits the grave of someone they love, they usually look at it.” Her voice is monotone as she stares at the slab of stone sitting at the head of a patch of newly sprouted grass.

He’s not sure he can. If he looks, if he sees there is in fact a final stop, a final holding place for this restless mortal, then he will know it is real. That this wasn’t all some elaborate trick or punishment of her own making to get back at him for her banishment.

Foolish as it is, that was a dark hope buried deep inside him. That she was really still there, biding her time, waiting until he was just ruined enough to waltz back into his life to teach him a well deserved lesson. Perhaps on gratitude, on not taking things for granted.

It would be such a Jude thing to do.

A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away, “I’ll give you a minute.”

Her footsteps recede, utterly fae and silent. So unlike the ones he desperately wishes to hear a final time.

It takes him maybe two minutes more for his eyes to finally find the headstone. He is shocked to find he can barely read what is inscribed upon it through tears that have filled his eyes.

Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

Beloved sister and wife

2001-2019

His tears come in earnest, then. How had he never known she took his name as well? Had cared enough to do so? Or was this something her sisters did to spite him? He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle any sobs trying to break free.

Cautiously, so cautious she would be proud, he runs his fingers over the inscription of her name- their name. When he knows his voice will be steady, he speaks.

“Well, wife.” He presses his eyes closed as a fresh wave of tears pushes at his senses, “I doubt either of us saw it coming to this.” Gently, he tugs something out of the satchel he brought with him.

“It was yours. For you to wear upon your return. For when you came home.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he carefully laid the crown down at the foot of the headstone, glamoured so mortals would see it as a pile of painted rocks.

“I guess in a way, I got what you thought I wanted. For you to…” He can’t even bring himself to say it. He had never wanted this. When in palace lessons, he thought that dreams plagued with her scent, her voice, her touch had been the most horrid nightmares. He was wrong, this was far worse than any dream he had of her angry face, her soft hair. This was a nightmare terrifying enough to cripple the strongest of men.

“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I wish I could take back what I said about you in our childhood. That you would return to the earth, worm food.” He shudders, recalling that he had said those things while imagining that they would have followed a long life. One filled with her aging slowly due to living in Elfhame. Secret imaginings he only allowed himself in the darkest hours of the night- ones where he was by her side and they wreaked havoc together for the rest of their long, full lives. His next words are whispered, “I never imagined it would happen so soon.”

His hand returns to the headstone, gripping the cool rock tightly.

There is nothing left to say aside from one final message. Nothing left to do other than leave this place and continue on in his immortality, letting her fade into the backs of everyone’s memory as the Last Mortal Queen.

Taking a final shaky breath, Cardan utters the truth he had spent nearly his whole life repressing, trying to lie his way around. The words he now so desperately wishes he had said to her before he cast her out of their home in hopes of preventing this very thing from happening.

With one final look upon the place his wife, his queen is forever to rest upon, he whispers,

“I love you.”

~.~

Years and years and years later, young children of the gentry sit in their history lessons amongst their mortal classmates, and learn of the beautiful, treacherous life that was led by the Last Mortal Queen, Jude Duarte-Greenbriar

And that is that! Did I make you cry? Do you want to throw crumpled tissues at my head? Let me know!❤️ (I left out details of Jude’s death on purpose, it’s up to your imagination to come up with what happened to her, sorry for pain😬)

Tag list:

As always, please let me know through the comments or my inbox or any other way you are comfortable with and let me know if you wish to be added to my list so you can be alerted to my future works!

@maleckanejnessienjurdansolangelo @woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @unidentifiedblackthorn @iminsanenotobsessed @df3ndyr @brittneyal @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @fuzzypineapples-blog @nahthanks @charrise @thefolkofthefic @theviolettulip @embersfromink @kittkatandbooboo

Till next time, loves!🥰

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icharchivist · 3 years

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A3 x Sleeping at Last

I have a fondness for the musician Sleeping at Last and i decided to have fun associating at least one of his song per A3 Characters. Under the cut are songs as well as some highlight lyrics to justify my choice. Some of them i feel more strongly than others so anyone with a comment is welcomed as well.

Thus here i go:

& Spotify playlist of all those songs in order if you want to go through it

Mankai Company : North

We will call this place our home, The dirt in which our roots may grow. Though the storms will push and pull, We will call this place our home. We’ll tell our stories on these walls. Every year, measure how tall. And just like a work of art, We’ll tell our stories on these walls. Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind. Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide. Settle our bones like wood over time, over time. Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.

Spring Troupe: From The Ground Up

It took me 27 years to wrap my head around this- To brush the ashes off of everything i love. Where courage was contagious, confidence was key. Right as rain, soft as snow, It grows and grows and grows, Our home sweet home.

We'll try to document this light, With cameras to our eyes, In an effort to remember What being mended feels like.

We're home sweet home.

Sakuya Sakuma : The Projectionist

When I was young I fell in love with story, With the eleventh hour, with the blaze of glory.

When hands are tied and clocks are ticking An audience convinced, we're leaning in, holding our breath again Just when we thought the game was over The music lifts and our dying soldier lives And we breathe a sigh of relief The theater lights dim and all goes quiet. In the darkest of rooms, light shines the brightest.

We’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. We’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now. But even dust was made to settle And if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different? I guess we give what we’ve been given: A family tree so very good at giving up When we’ve had enough. Though truth is heavier than fiction, Gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls tape. And it makes us brave again

Masumi Usui : Venus

At first I thought you were a constellation. I made a map of your stars, then I had a revelation: You’re as beautiful as endless, You’re the universe I’m helpless in. An astronomer at my best When I throw away the measurements.

I was a billion little pieces 'til you pulled me into focus. Astronomy in reverse, It was me who was discovered.

Tsuzuru Minagi : Page 28

Have you read the script? Could you picture it? ... is it worth the risk?

Here in the second act I'm living in repair. Strange how the heart adapts when its pieces disappear. And there, on page 28, I'm so tired of drying glue, I begin my grand attempt at building something new. Though I tend to write the epiphany more immediately, I guess I'm trusting that there's such a thing as elegance in dissonance. God, I'm skeptical of pulling scenes. Was it something that I said? was it something that I did? Please don't get me wrong - I still need your help As history repeats itself Here in the aftermath, I'm pulling at the seams. Strange how the heart adapts in the absence of routine. And there, on page 29, I find “new” and make it mine. But I can't help casting shadows on all I leave behind. Maybe I could afford to change a bit... Even let go of the reigns? Every torn out page was worth the risk Now that the stakes have been raised. So here in the final draft, I've given all I have. Strange how the heart expands in the absence of a plan. There's nothing left on the page, but I'm okay with that, For I found my resolution Was designed for stronger hands.

or Body

There's magic in our bones, A north star in our soul That remembers our way home. There's magic in our bones. No, I don't have a script for this. But I know the right words exist Somewhere, And I just need more time. I know, I know, I'm asking for the moon, But I must listen to intuition Believe me, I only want what's right.

Itaru Chigasaki : Pluto

I woke up from the same dream: Falling backwards, falling backwards ’Til it turned me inside out. Now I live a waking life Of looking backwards, looking backwards; A model citizen of doubt. Until one day I had enough Of this exercise of trust. I leaned in and let it hurt, And let my body feel the dirt. When I break pattern, I break ground. I rebuild when I break down. I wake up more awake than I’ve ever been before. Still I’m pinned under the weight Of what I believed would keep me safe. So show me where my armor ends, Show me where my skin begins. Like a final puzzle piece It all makes perfect sense to me… The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity. The heaviness that I hold in my heart’s been crushing me.

Or East

I set out to rule the world With only a paper shield and a wooden sword. No mountain dare stand in my way, Even the oceans tremble in my wake. The tide is brave, but always retreats. Even the sand, it cowers under my feet. My kingdom towers above it all, While I sleep safe and sound in my cardboard walls. Now I bear little resemblance to the king I once was. I bear little resemblance to the king I could become. Maybe paper is paper, maybe kids will be kids- Lord, I want to remember how to feel like I did. So I draw my sword with the morning sun, I summon the moon as soon as the day is done. The clouds march on, on my command. Even the rain, it falls according to plan. The trees bow down and give their leaves. I humbly accept their offerings of peace. The years wore on and changed my heart, The leading role for a smaller part.

Citron : Noble Aim

Chances are we are the same, against the odds, against the grain We lean, like gardens toward light but we wait, Like evening for night, Don't we? Chances are we are alike, against what better judgement writes We ache, like children for love For a purpose worthy of such a noble aim as love.

Chances are we bruise the same; a family tree desperate for rain. A thirst only deserts know best. a hurt so at home in our chests. Call it stubbornness or bravery, To let our branches continue to reach, With such a noble aim, With such a noble aim as love. Every broken branch and loosened leaf that we've grown to ignore, Is now a part of something greater than before. Every nest that rests upon our limbs, Seeking shelter from the storms, Is a purpose worth being broken for.

Chances are we are the same, against the odds, against the grain We lean, like gardens toward light, We reach with all of our might For such a noble aim as love

Chikage Utsuki : Neptune

Pitch black, pale blue, It was a stained glass Variation of the truth, And I felt empty handed. You let me set sail with cheap wood. So I patched up every leak that I could, 'Til the blame grew too heavy.

Stitch by stitch I tear apart, If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread I come apart If brokenness is a work of art, Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks, when I open my mouth I wanna tell you but I don't know how

I'm only honest when it rains An open book, with a torn out page, and my inks run out I want to love you but i don’t know how...

Or South

Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice. Some truths are sharper than knives. Some truths we only see in the corners of our eyes. Some truths we wish we could hide. Some truths can save us, Some take our lives. Some truths are fire and some truths are ice. No matter what category you fit into, Truth’s got its sight set on you. If truth is north, then I am true south. I can’t figure it out- God knows. Always looking up 'Til my eyes give up. That’s how I lost touch of who I am and who I was.

Summer Troupe : Joy

The clumsy start of adolescence, The glue that mends our broken remnants, An overwhelming sense of reverence, It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold. A silver lining spilling over, The rumor of buried treasure, The starting line of an adventure, It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold. It's an afterglow, it's an echo Still ringing out in spite of me. It's the faint outline of the divine In the hiding place of my periphery. So I let go and in this moment, I can breathe. I can breathe. The countless stars we're sleeping under, It's the brightest sparks that we remember. When our eyes are closed, we still see embers, A glimpse of light in a mine of gold. It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold.

Tenma Sumeragi : Three

Maybe I've done enough, and your golden child grew up Maybe this trophy isn't real love, And with or without it I'm good enough Maybe I've done enough, Finally catching up For the first time I see an image of my brokeness Utterly worthy of love

And I finally see myself, Through the eyes of no one else. It's so exhausting on this silver screen Where I play the role of anyone but me. I finally see myself, Unabridged and overwhelmed, A mess of a story I'm ashamed to tell, But I'm slowly learning how to break this spell. And I finally see myself. Now I only want what's real, to let my heart feel what it feels. Gold, silver or bronze hold no value here, Where work and rest are equally revered. I only want what's real, I set aside the highlight reel, And leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk; Worthy of love anyway.

Yuki Rurikawa : Hope

There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other Like the light of countless stars We are not afraid of the dark 'Cause there is hope in our hearts And every single beat, we feel it To the ends of the earth, our echo carries on We are sacred, we are strong, We are beautiful, we belong Please hear our unheard song There is hope in our voice when we listen to each other Barriers disappeared with every story told We are sacred, we are strong, We are beautiful, we belong Please hear our unheard song There is hope in our eyes, When we truly see each other We raise our flag, lift our voice This is our moment, We are sacred, we are strong This is our moment, We are beautiful, we belong This is our moment, We are worthy, we are true This is our moment, There are no borders from this view Please help us raise our flag There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other

Muku Sakisaka : Daughter

I want to see your happily ever after, That you know in your heart that you matter, That you are royalty. This is your kingdom, This is your crown, This is your story. This is your moment, Don’t look down.

You’re ready. born ready, And all you gotta do is put one foot in front of you. Our ceiling is your floor, And all you gotta do is put one foot in front of you. If only you knew

Misumi Ikaruga : Seven

How nice it'd be if we could try everything? I'm serious, let's make a list and just begin What about danger? So what, what about risk? Let's climb the mountain before we cross that bridge! 'Cause I'm restless, For whatever comes next

How wonderful to see a smile on your face It costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade A secret handshake between me and my one life: I'll find the silver lining no matter what the price 'Cause I'm hungry, For whatever comes next Let me tell you another secret of the trade- It feels like sinking when I'm standing in one place So I look to the future and I book another flight When everything feels heavy, I've learned to travel light But I want to be here, Truly be here To watch the ones that I love bloom And I want to make room To love them through and through and through And through the slow and barren seasons too

I feel hope deep in my bones... And tomorrow will be beautiful.

Kazunari Miyoshi : Nine

Who am I to say what any of this means? I have been sleepwalking since I was fourteen Now as I write my song, I retrace my steps Honestly, it's easier to let myself forget

Still, I check my vital signs, Choked up, I realize I've been less than half myself for more than half my life

It looks like empathy to understand all sides But I'm just trying to find myself through someone else's eyes So show me what to do to restart this heart of mine How do I forgive myself for losing so much time?

A little at a time I feel more alive I let the scale tip and feel all of it It's uncomfortable but right We were born to try, to see each other through To know and love ourselves and others well Is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do

Kumon Hyodo : Intermission

I'm so tired but I can't sleep. My mind is full but I can't speak. Among the dust of the hard-to-reach, I'm stuck Right here, somewhere between side a and side b. I could call it compromise, or just an intermission. Some kind of consolation prize for the race I never finished. I want to turn these tired gears. I want to feel the follow-through, Some kind of equilibrium... Something to set my watch to.

I'm here, somewhere between victory and a white flag. Caught in this purgatory dream, I'm stuck. But I want to set the record straight, I want to retrace my every step. If I could just rewind all the tapes, Then maybe I'd find my loose thread. Call it a compromise, or just an intermission. Some kind of consolation prize, so close, but never finished. I want to turn these tired gears. I want to feel the follow-through, Some kind of equilibrium... Something to set my watch to.

Pluto works for him too

Autumn Troupe : The Sea of Atlas

We once felt safe, like no cure was needed. Our vocabularies had no room for “defeated,” But we grew up quick and became connoisseurs of it. There's a fine line, a fine line in between Our progress and our instability. We can't help ourselves but hunt for more. A design flaw? or the olive branch that proves the shore- The catalyst we've waited for.

Banri Settsu : One

Hold on for a minute, 'Cause I believe that we can fix this over time That every imperfection is a lie, Or at least an interruption Now hold on, let me finish, No, I'm not saying perfect exists in this life But we'll only know for certain if we try

The list goes on forever of all the ways I could be better in my mind As if I could earn God's favor given time Or at least congratulations Now I have learned my lesson The price of this so-called perfection is everything I spend my whole life searching desperately To find out grace requires nothing of me I... I wanna sing a song worth singing I'll write an anthem worth repeating I... I wanna feel the transformation A melody of reformation I hold it all more loosely, and yet somehow much more dearly 'Cause I spend my whole life searching desperately To find out that grace requires nothing Grace requires nothing of me

Juza Hyodo : Taste

I am alive, I am awake. I am aware of what light tastes like. The curtains drawn, the table's set, I wanna be, I wanna be, at my best.

I'm on my knees and only scratch the surface.

Out of the woods, out of the dark. I’m well aware of the shadows in my heart. I wanna feel, tectonic shifts; I wanna be, I wanna be, astonished. I wanna be astonished. So I propose a toast: To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering. To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again. We’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride. We’re raising our glass, ’til we’re fixed from the inside. 'Til we're fixed from the inside. We're nothing less than a work in progress. Sacred text on Post-It notes. We only speak of a world in pieces. Let's make a map of what matters most: Where every fracture is a running river. Leading us back to our golden coast.

OR Mercury

No one can unring this bell Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new God knows, I am dissonance Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune

I know the further I go The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed And somehow I’ve fallen in love With this middle ground at the cost of my soul Yet I know, if I stepped aside Released the controls, you would open my eyes That somehow, all of this mess Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life

Made of precious metals, precious metal inside

Taichi Nanao: Sadness

It feels like falling, It feels like rain, Like losing my balance, Again and again It once was so easy, Breathe in, breathe out But at the foot of this mountain I only see clouds

I feel out of focus, or at least indisposed As this strange weather pattern inside me takes hold Each brave step forward I take three steps behind It's mind over matter, Matter over mind

Slowly, then all at once, A single loose thread And it all comes undone

Where there is light a shadow appears The cause and effect when life interferes The same rule applies to goodness and grief For in our great sorrow We learn what joy means

I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight it But I will learn to fight, I will learn to fight 'Til this pendulum finds equilibrium

Slowly, then all at once, The dark clouds depart And the damage is done, So pardon the dust While this all settles in, With a broken heart Transformation begins

or Bright and Early

The sun comes pouring in. Filling glasses up with diamonds, Stirring where I've been But it's all trigger and effect. Dominoes at their best. In the end I'm told, It taught me everything I know. That the wreckage left behind, will somehow make me grow.

In the end I'm told It taught me everything I know. But when the fire took our home, I lost part of my soul. From the ground up I'll keep building houses into homes. 'cause if trust is ribbon, Then patience ties it in a perfect bow.

Omi Fushimi : Aperture

Happiness is somewhere I have been before- A blurry photograph that I have since ignored. I'll carefully adjust the aperture once more, Until I set the record straight. I'll brush aside the dim, make room for the bright. I'll be an editor, no, a curator of light. I'll let my better angels always set me right, Until I even out the score. Until I even out the score. God, it has been quite a year- I've lived a little bit and I've died a little more. I know that I've asked it before, But please let the scale tip here in my favor. What was once the sweetest melody I've heard Is now a memory reduced to little words. I'll tune the orchestra and play the overture, Until I pinpoint every note. Give me the heart of an archeologist, That I may dig until I prove that I exist. A subterranean cathedral in my midst, Where echos come to rest.

Sakyo Furuichi : Touch

When will I feel this as vivid as it truly is, Fall in love in a single touch, and fall apart when it hurts too much? Can we skip past near-death clichés Where my heart restarts, as my life replays? All I want is to flip a switch Before something breaks that cannot be fixed.

Invisible machinery, These moving parts inside of me Well, they’ve been shutting down for quite some time, Leaving only rust behind. Well I know, I know - the sirens sound Just before the walls come down. Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman Predicting God as best he can, But God I want to feel again, Oh God I want to feel again.

Rain or shine, I don’t feel a thing, just some information upon my skin. I miss the subtle aches when the weather changed, The barometric pressure we always blamed. All I want is to flip a switch Before something breaks that cannot be fixed. Down my arms, a thousand satellites Suddenly discover signs of life.

Azami Izumida : Anger

Like wildfire, it starts in my chest The silence grows louder, ringing out in my head

I feel the Earth shaking under my feet I feel the pressure building until I can't breathe And it takes everything

And it all spills out, reckless but honest words leave my mouth Like kerosene on a flame of doubt, I couldn't make it right

Alarms will sound, but it's too late for holy water now Sooner or later the fire dies down, I'll open up my eyes

And I'll try and find the image of God In mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke It's fight or flight, buried in my mind, It's fight or flight It keeps my mind cold

But I feel it break, With just one misstep down a fire escape And suddenly I'm someone that prays, a last minute man of faith But I'll leave behind miles and miles of jagged lines Upon the surface of the Divine, I wish I could set them straight

Say

they impose the endless fight to always be perfect it seems they have been chosen to be above the rest

but the contradiction stands between these perfect lives and the words that they've misread there was no reading say all the things that you really want to say the truest of forms will show finally you'll find your soul

Bonus: Sakyo & Azami: Uneven Odds

I once knew your father well He fought tears as he spoke of your mother’s health I guess a part of him just couldn’t return Forgiveness is a lesson he cursed you to learn As your guardian I was instructed well To make sense of God’s love in these fires of hell No I don’t expect you to understand Just to live what little life your broken heart can Maybe your light is a seed And the darkness the dirt In spite of the uneven odds Beauty lifts from the earth As the years move on these questions take shape Are you getting stronger or is time shifting weight? No one expects you to understand Just to live what little life your mended heart can You’ll always remember the moment God took her away For the weight of the world was placed on your shoulders that day You’re much too young now so I write these words down, “Darkness exists to make light truly count.”

& Heirloom

You try your hardest to leave the past alone. This crooked posture is all you’ve ever known. It is the consequence of living in between The weight of family and the pull of gravity. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become. Long before you were born there was light Hidden deep in these young, unfamiliar eyes. A million choices, though little on their own, Become the heirloom of the heaviness you’ve known. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become,

You pressed rewind for the thousandth time When the tapes wore through. So you memorized those unscripted lines, Desperate for some kind of clue:

When the scale tipped, when you inherited, A fight that you were born to lose. It’s not your fault, No, it’s not your fault, I put this heavy heart in you.

You remind me of who I could have been, Had I been stronger and braver way back then. A million choices, though little on their own, Became the heirloom of the heaviness we’ve known. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than the wars you’ve won. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become.

Winter Troupe : Homesick

Our resignation only comes on beaten paths When the world was flat we dreamt of its edges If love's elastic, then were we born to test it's reach? Is it buried treasure or just a single puzzle piece? It's poison ivy beneath our brave and trusting feet All revelations come to us in recovery Cry wolf, cry mercy, Cry the name of the one you were raised to believe Cry heart, cry yourself to sleep, Cry a storm of tears if it helps you breathe It helps you, if it helps you breathe

Or Hourglass

We're taking turns at shattering apart. At least we're taking turns. How did we get so good at dismantling these hearts? How did we ever get so good? We dress our best to receive their sympathy. At our worst, we dress our best? “time heals all” According to these greeting cards. Oh how we'd rather time resets. If we could turn the hourglass, we would. If we could move a grain of sand, we would. If we could find our way back, we would.

Tsumugi Tsukioka : Clockwork

There is glass between our touch, phantom limbs of former love... and the truth is that I am so terrified that the callous is deeper than the surface of our skin. and it takes us twice as long, it takes us twice as long to heal. we'll lift up the ground to see the system of roots beneath. gears turn, endlessly, to bring the world back to life like clockwork, when it dies. the cadence of beating hearts, the click of its moving parts grows louder and louder from this restless earth... future gardens wait patiently below and somehow we smell them blossom through the snow.

still unsatisfied, we chase what we're denied. as generations wait, we can't resist the taste of possibility. gears turn, endlessly, to bring us back to life again. like clockwork, we begin.

Tasuku Takato : Porcelain

The door broke when you slammed it shut, and the cracks kept reaching long after you left. through the floorboards, branching towards the hall, like vines that never rest... climbing like fire through the walls. a single spark that claims the whole forest - I know, I know... it's all for the best. but honestly, I would rather be safe from a distance than here... when I fell to my knees to sew the damage shut, I couldn't believe... a bright, staggering light came flooding into me from out of the seams. so I reached deeper in and pulled my whole world wide open, and for each broken mile, a billion miracles happen at once in everything... in everything. but I'm safe from a distance, right here. everything I love was made of porcelain, ready to break. but the bright, staggering light, it anxiously waits inside. like nesting dolls, the secret hides. and like every birth, it was a necessary pain... I know, I know... it's all worth the wait, worth the weight.

or Accidental Lights

On your mark, get set... A million miles past the finish line My heels lift at this imaginary starting line. The trigger slips; My heart was racing well before it's time. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, As the road up ahead disappears. Though it's all been said, and this empty dictionary is all that's left, I'll try to change the world in a single word. My hands are shaking, ready or not. Invisible ink well it's all I've got. So I'll concentrate and pick from these barren trees. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, And every road I discover disappears under my feet - Some call it reckless, some call it breathing. Have i said too much or not enough? Is it overkill or is it giving up, To measure out the distance of an echo's reach? If it's all broken mirrors and a chance roll of the dice, Then I'll risk everything for a glimpse of accidental light. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, And every road I've discovered disappears under my feet - Some call it reckless, I call it breathing.

Hisoka Mikage : Smell

Is this the part when the brain scans show where memories reside? Some ambiguous shape in me suddenly producing light Triggered like a tripwire, every time I breathe it in Isn't it strange that a Lilac tree is what unlocks where I've been? Like a time machine rebuilds the past, our memories return Like remembering the ashes before we burn

It finishes against my will, the light goes out, my heart goes still And just like that, I believe in ghosts

Time and space are at my back, Performing disappearing acts Now I can escape the smell of smoke Research says that the only way to keep memories intact Is to lock 'em away and close the doors to countless years of past I guess that explains why the strangest things can conjure up the past And forgotten time will find its long way back

It doesn't matter, I just know I need more Cause I feel like I've been sleeping through the better part of this Laying dormant through an endless winter that doesn't even exist

It's gravity in an hourglass, responsible for the avalanche And the loudest silence that I've ever heard Memory clear as a bell, A story that I will try to tell Maybe this time without words

Homare Arisugawa : Four

Maybe I'm hiding behind metaphor Maybe my heart needs to break to be sure One day I'll wear it all on my sleeve The insignificant with the sacred unique But I've fallen in love with a ghost I lost my balance when I needed it most And this blurry photograph is proof Of what I'm not sure but it feels like truth I'm stuck swimming in shadows down here It's been forever since I came up for air Flashlight in hand determined to find Authenticity only poetry could even begin to try to describe

What if we already are who we've been dying to become In certain light I can plainly see a reflection of magnificence Hidden in you, Maybe even in me

or Son

Show me Who I am and who I could be Initiate the heart within me 'til it opens properly

Slow down Start again from the beginning I can't keep my head from spinning out of control Is this what being vulnerable feels like? And I will try, try, try to breathe 'til it turns to muscle memory I'm only steady on my knees One day I'll stand on my own two feet And I'll run the risk Of being intimate with brokenness Through this magnifying glass I see a thousand finger prints On the surfaces of who I am

Azuma Yukishiro : Two

Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat It's okay if you can't find the words, Let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders

I know exactly how the rule goes Put my mask on first No, I don't want to talk about myself Tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up 'Til you're good as new And maybe one day, I will get around To fixing myself, too I don't even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow to be loved myself

Or Six

What would it feel like to put this baggage down? If I'm being honest I'm not sure I'd know how I want to take shelter but I'm ready, ready to fight And somewhere in the middle I feel a little paralyzed But maybe I'm stronger than I realize I wanna believe - No, I choose to believe That I was made to become a sanctuary Fear won't go away but I can keep it at bay And these invisible walls just might keep us safe With a vigilant heart, I'll push into the dark And I'll learn to breathe deep and make peace with the stars Is that courage or faith to show up every day? To trust that there will be light, Always waiting behind even the darkest of nights

Guy : Mind

First, the ground rules get established: Memory is historically inaccurate. But repetition, repetition sings 'Til finally the melody is sacred, rooted, unchanged.

It overwhelms the nervous system, This fearful constant state of comparison. In our grey matter, all grey matters. An embarrassment of riches in our heads, We gravitate to black or white instead. We were designed to send mixed signals, One image made up of different pixels All subject to interpretation. 'Til binary systems, binary systems run And the vibrancy of everything becomes zeros and ones.

Patterns form and feel important, It's the first brush stroke of a self-portrait.

#'i'll slap relevent lyrics' *slaps 90% of the lyrics for some*#anyway i am posting it before i'm starting to doubt my picks but yeah #some i feel stronger about than others #aNYWAY #ichatalks about a3 #ichablogging music #a3 #a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!

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nealiios · 2 years

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The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

#horror #70s #occult #supernatural #television #writing

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michaelbogild · 3 years

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Quotes by Lord Byron

Adversity is the first path to truth.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever.

All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.

Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

And gave no outward signs of inward strife

And mind and dust- and passions and pure thoughts

And when we think we lead, we are most led

As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Being of no party, I shall offend all parties

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But who, alas! can love, and then be wise?

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think

Come, lay thy head upon my breast and I'll kiss thee unto rest.

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, -- the throne Of the Invisible! even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Eternity forbids thee to forget.

Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth

For Earth is but a tombstone

For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Had they been wisely mingled; as it is

Hath all the energy which would have made

he knew how to make madness beautiful

I am ashes where once I was fire...

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion.

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, – and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, – thou livest forever!

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.

I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.

I suppose I had some meaning when I wrote it; I believe I understood it then.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

In solitude, where we are least alone

In vain!—As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

It is an awful chaos-light and darkness-

Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

Mix'd, and contending without end or order

My pang shall find a voice.

Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear

On with the dance! Let joy be undefined!

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I’ll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other

Opinions are made to be changed – or how is truth to be got at?

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes

Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon...

Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy.

So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

The dew of compassion is a tear

The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain

The great object of life is sensation—to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming—to battle—to travel—to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment..

The heart will break, but broken live on.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,— And glowing into day.

The power of thought is the magic of the mind.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more

There is music in all things, if men had ears.

There is no instinct like that of the heart

There is the moral of all human tales: ’Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory - when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, he would have written sonnets all his life?

This should have been a noble creature: he

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.

Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come

To have joy, one must share it.

To him the magic of their mysteries; To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.

Who knows whether, when a comet shall approach this globe to destroy it, as it often has been and will be destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their foundations by means of steam, and hurl mountains, as the giants are said to have done, against the flaming mass? - and then we shall have traditions of Titans again, and of wars with Heaven...

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

With just enough of learning to misquote.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it

You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her. Never underestimate the power of love. The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know at all. Music is love in search of a word. There is pleasure in the pathless woods; there is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar.

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 6.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which history is written on the walls.

Some of my other fics have been showing up in the tags when I use the link post option, so I’m doing an experiment this time. Fingers crossed it shows! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Chapter 12: Beta, Part 3

Having long since heeded Ruby’s advice to take a mental break, Steven sits criss-cross with his back pressed against the hodgepodge aquarium. If you ask him, this position is a two-in-one miracle, allowing him both an unobstructed view of the doorway, and sparing him from the deep rooted horror of the creepy dismantled plush still floating an aimless arc through the tank. He loves Peridot to death, but good golly, this latest meep morp is deeply unsettling. He shudders at the mere thought of its water-logged stuffing oozing out from the seams, and then— inhaling deep through his nose— steers his focus back to the phone clasped tightly between his fidgety fingers.

Back to the story, you doofus.

With nothing better to do for the moment and a hyperactive mind to satiate, he’s finally started to read the Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic that Connie sent him a link to a few days before. True to her words, it’s super, super good. Well written, great characterization, and best of all, the author keeps throwing in hints of future romance between Lisa and Archimicarus! Considering that, he’s almost surprised Connie likes this fic so much. She’s normally not much of a shipper. To be fair though, romance definitely isn’t the point of the story. Instead, it’s an AU focused on the mystery of the main character’s origins.

He can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh as— in chapter 5– Lisa tries to calmly explain to her fellow Stonehearth Coven members that somehow her father, the revered founder of the coven, used to be a prince of the wicked Arcane Court. Most of her once-close friends don’t swallow the news well. As a result, Lisa is left alone to seek the truth of her father’s past, with no allies except her trusted familiar at her side. Lip quivering, he presses his thumb solid against his phone’s screen for a while, as if yearning to reach a healing hand beyond the barrier between fiction and reality and let the young witch know she’s not alone, that he sees and supports her. He makes a mental note to thank Connie profusely for sending along this really good fic, and presses on to the next chapter.

He’s halfway to the end of it when Peridot returns.

For someone who appeared super frazzled by Lapis’s terror-struck outbursts the last time she stood at his side, she sure seems fit as a fiddle now, walking with a slight bounce in her step as she crosses past the fence line and onto the property. At least, he assumes she is. He can’t help but immediately doubt this assessment when she spots him sitting against the inner wall of the barn with that piercing focus of hers and bounds through the doorway like a Gem fleeing the apocalypse.

“Steven, Steven, Steven, Steven!” she cries as she runs to his side, flapping her arms urgently.

Practically tossing his phone to the ground to free his hands for combat, he leaps to his feet so fast that his head grows woozy. His rose-thorned shield shimmers into tangible existence in front of his barred fist.

“What, what is it?” he exclaims, the pounding of his heart devolving into an untamable cacophony as all his darkest fears rear their ugly heads at once. “Is- is it Lapis? Did she leave anyways?”

“Uh, no…?”

“Or, or, or- are we under attack?!”

“Steven, I—“

“Who’s here for me this time?” he blurts, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Is it Homeworld? Jasper? The Diamonds? Tell meeee!” he whines, roughly shaking her.

“I- No one? It’s no one!” Peridot exclaims when her head finally stops jostling back and forth under his force, waves of confusion coloring her expression. “I’m… just happy to be back?”

His cheeks burn red as he drinks in her obvious statement and eventually catches his breath. He lets go of her. “O-oh,” he stammers, willing the shield floating before him to disappear into glimmers of light and desperately wishing he could do the same at this precise moment of existence. “Okay. Glad to see you back! Did, uh… did you find Lapis?”

She nods in confirmation, but visibly deflates a little at the reminder of her roommate. “Yeah, she’s perched in a tree in the woods. She said she wanted some ‘alone time,’” she emphasizes with air quotes.

Steven clasps his fingers together in front of him as he lets this news sink in, digits tussling without end for the most comfortable alignment. Bleeding heart that he is, he hates the idea of letting anyone be alone, especially after a revelation this jarring, but he must admit that he himself found some comfort in solitude the night his human half took for the beach, inert diamond in hand. If anything else, it was nice to retreat from all the noise, to allow himself the opportunity to form his own opinions about the situation. Perhaps it’ll be beneficial for her, too.

“That’s understandable,” he says, glancing out the barn door towards the forest his friend is taking refuge in. “She’s been through a lot.”

He squats to pick up his phone from the floorboards then, frowning as he notices a fresh crack on the glass at the corner of the screen. Knowing that— despite his desperate desires— there’s nothing he can do to fix this right now, he shoves it in his pocket and pushes against his knees to stand up. The bottom of his shirt catches on his arm as he does so, briefly exposing the unfamiliar facets of his rotated gem. Peridot’s brows nearly shoot above the upper rim of her visor.

“So,” she begins, nodding towards his stomach. “Your gem.”

With a tired sigh, he tugs his shirt back down. Boy, does he already know where this conversation is heading, and boy, is he sick of having to walk everyone through it. “Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and getting ready to deploy the exasperated eye roll.

“All this time everyone thought you were a hybrid quartz, but now you’re telling me…”

“...that I’m actually a dia—“

“...that I, Peridot, certified Kindergartener, a skilled specialist on every variety of Gem to ever exist, was wrong??”

“Hold on, what?”

She holds her hand over the diamond emblazoned on her chest as she passionately continues, wholly oblivious to Steven’s bemusement. “I was the brightest Gem of my cut back on Homeworld, and yet somehow I mistook a perfectly formed diamond for a quartz! Ah, hahahah!” Eyes glinting with what he can only describe as a borderline feral energy, she moves to clutch at the sides of her head, thick tufts of lemon yellow spilling out from between her fingers. “Oh, my stars. I’ve lost my touch!”

“Wait, who’s out of touch?” Ruby’s curious voice chimes from nearby. Overjoyed to see her again, Steven whirls to face her with a huge grin as she enters the barn and lounges against one of the support beams, propping a hand on her hip.

“I- it’s nothing important,” Peridot mutters, flushing as she smooths her hair back into place.

Immediately making note of the hint of shame dancing across her features, he nods. “Yeah, we were just chit-chatting! Hey, how’s Amethyst doing, though? You went to talk to her, right?”

Ruby huffs in frustration at the mention of the quartz Gem, grinding her boots against the floor so hard that for a second he’s genuinely concerned she might spark a fire under her very feet. “Tried to. But then she slashed her whip towards me and said I couldn’t help her, so ‘go away!’” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m trying to provide some love and support, and she, she just- tells me to scram!”

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” he says with a frown, feeling his heart pulse in sympathy as she begins to pace back and forth across the wooden slats, grumbling under her breath.

“What’s her problem today, anyways?” Peridot asks, crossing her arms. “She’s usually much more amicable.”

Steven nibbles at the inside of his lip as he considers the concerning downward trajectory of Amethyst’s recent behavior. Sure, she can sometimes get snippy when she’s in a bad place, but this past week her outward attitude has built into a continuous problem. He himself has been on the receiving end of her acerbic words more than a few times, such as that afternoon they goaded each other into a duel at the Sky Arena, and that barbed retort she pierced him with at the fountain. Then there’s her fight with Pearl, her resulting emotional seclusion, today’s callous treatment of Peridot, Lapis, Ruby…

He desperately wishes he could pin all the blame for this on a single person, a single event, (because oh, wouldn’t that make his life so much easier), but when he tracks the evidence of her unrest it becomes blindingly clear that her problems began long before Rose’s betrayal was revealed.

“Well, beyond all the, uh… latest stuff, she’s been super insecure about Jasper,” he offers. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his flip flops rhythmically clapping against his heels, he rummages his brain for the easiest way to explain the root of the situation. “Basically, Jasper took Amethyst out in a fight a week ago, and ever since that she’s been training super hard a whole lot. I think she’s desperate for a rematch, to prove she’s good enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ The green Gem holds her hands out, palms open. “You’re telling me she’s got an inferiority complex about Jasper? With where she came from?” She lets out a raucous peel of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh Amethyst! That’s ridiculous! She was made way better than that clod.”

He squints at her inquisitively, crossing his arms as he tries to make sense of the interesting new conversation thread that just flowed out of her mouth. “But what do you mean, where she came from? Isn’t she from Homeworld, like you?”

Ruby freezes in place upon hearing this question, clear worry threaded through her creased browline. Her mouth bobs open as if she’s gearing up to answer his question, but amidst her hesitation— a timidness that, the more he thinks about it, is bizarrely out of place from the bold, confident Gem Steven’s gotten to know from all the other times Garnet’s unfused— Peridot beats her to the charge.

“Pfft, are you kidding? She emerged right here from Earth, and not even from its good kindergarten!”

He slams his hands against his cheeks, internally reeling from this revelation. “There’s other kindergartens?”

“Well, sure! There was supposed to be one in every facet. Until the rebellion put a swift end to the Diamonds’ colonization efforts, that is,” she adds quickly, adjusting her visor. “There’s Amethyst’s Prime Kindergarten in Facet Five, but there’s also the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine. And that piece of work is where Jasper was made… poorly!” Giggling in excitement, she rapidly shuffles her feet beneath her. The glimmer of light reflected in her eyes is bright enough to rival a distant star. “You guys have to see it!”

Steven balls up his hand at his chin, deliberating. He has to admit, after the recent emotional upheaval that he now can’t help but associate with this place, he really likes the idea of spending time somewhere other than the barn.

“Huh. Might be worth asking if she wants to check it out,” he says with a shrug. “Ruby, you in?”

The Gem in question nibbles at the corner of her lip, humming low under her breath as she considers his offer. A small bead of sweat hangs above her brow. Sporting a good natured grin, he nudges her in the side with his elbow, hoping he can cheer her up a bit.

“A little more time with your favorite Steven and Peri? Eh? Come on, you know you wanna!”

“Do it, do it!” Peridot chimes in, pumping her fists up and down.

He eagerly joins in with her rallying cry, and in no time at all they’re both circling around their friend chanting those very words. Ruby stands center with her arms crossed and her back erect, desperately trying not to break her stoic facade with a smile. It’s ultimately futile, of course. After all, no one can resist the good ol’ Universe charm forever!

“All right, fine, fine, I’ll come,” she finally acquiesces, and with a smirk, plants both her hands on her hips. “After all, someone’s gotta keep an eye on all you trouble makers!”

Now that Ruby’s officially on board, the trio ventures outside to find Amethyst, Steven and Peridot giggling as they begin to skip around the perimeter of the barn side by side, arms linked together. Brushing a few flyaway curls out of his face amidst the comforting breeze, he glances over his shoulder when they reach the first corner to make sure they’re not leaving their friend in the dust. And thankfully she’s right on their tail, but he can’t help but notice her enthusiasm seems muted. He presses his lips together in concern. Does she not want to go with them? Is he only forcing her into this? His stomach twists with guilt as he ponders this quandary further. It’s not his intention to be pushy, but maybe— between coercing Amethyst to take a break and accompany him to the barn, begging Lapis to stay, and now, nudging Ruby to come to the Kindergarten— he’s only being selfish and manipulative about all this. He thought he was bringing people together, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s only straining relationships, tainting the already tense atmosphere, making everything worse?

(What if this is the same sort of excuse his mom Rose used to make?)

With Amethyst slashing her whip at a few old rusted cans in the clearing before them, however, there’s no time to waste drowning within what-ifs. It’s like that day he learned about Garnet’s future vision for the first time: if he lets himself get tangled up in the possibilities he’ll never truly live. He sighs under his breath, lips pursed. Of course. Garnet’s right even when she isn’t here. As much as he’d love to go crazy psychoanalyzing the impact of every solitary step he makes, at this point he’s made his choices and whatever happens, happens. It’s time to live now.

Initially, the purple Gem is rather indignant at the idea that the three of them were gossiping about her behind her back— eyes clouded with hurt— but once Peridot explains that the point of their proposed Kindergarten field trip is to check out Jasper’s no-doubt lame hole, she blinks away her bitterness and seems to eagerly climb aboard.

“Sure, why not? ‘S not like there’s anything more fun than roasting your enemies.”

“I strongly agree,” Peridot says, nodding with pride.

But before the newly expanded Shorty Squad can begin their journey, there’s something Steven really needs to address. Something that’s been troubling him all day. Nervous butterflies filling his stomach, he leans up close to his sibling-in-crime and whispers so the others don’t hear:

“Amethyst, can I talk to you for a bit before we leave?”

Her expression curdles, but thankfully, unlike in Ruby’s unfortunate account, she doesn’t make a move towards her whip to push him away. Instead, she meets him with a gaze so hardened and difficult to read that his eyes can’t help but drift away, perhaps a little intimidated by the intensity of this contact.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mutters eventually. She flicks her wrist up at the other two, gesturing for them to get a move on. “Go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Ruby and Peridot nod, the red Gem with a good deal more sympathy drawn on her face, (but for him or Amethyst?), and promptly set off towards the warp pad. He continues to watch until they disappear beyond the curve of the grassy hillside, both conversing comfortably. The last he hears before the warp shoots its cyan stream of light into the sky is a hooting laugh from Ruby. Despite how non-ideal this visit has been so far, he can’t help the smile stretching across his cheeks, or how his chest grows all warm and fuzzy. It’s really nice to see Peridot getting along so well with the others now. She’s made such huge strides in the past few months.

Something metallic clangs behind him. Flinching, Steven whirls around. A crumpled, abused soda can lays overturned by the side of the barn. Amethyst— arms crossed tight just under her gem and her hair more spiked and untamed than usual— glares at that poor hunk of tin as if it’s solely to blame for all of this galaxy’s problems. She moves to lean against the barn’s outer wall and peers at him expectantly, like a troubled child expecting judgement from a parental figure.

“So. You wanted to talk,” she says, tone clipped.

“I… wanted to be honest,” he mutters, threading his fingers together as he grasps for how best to word this. “Amethyst… I know you’ve been going through some hard stuff lately. I know everything that’s happened in the past few days doesn’t help. But you’ve been so inconsiderate of like, everyone here.” He swings his arm in a wide gesture towards the barn. “Peridot and Lapis didn’t deserve the way you treated them earlier.”

No response.

Steven frowns, and— a glimmer of quiet frustration bubbling deep within him, the sort he’d never admit to out loud but can’t help but harbor whenever he catches wind of small injustices that he can never seem to fix— scratches an burgeoning itch at the nape of his neck. He… oh stars, he’s going about this completely wrong, isn’t he? He’s being too confrontational. Hmm. Maybe he should try a new angle. Time for take two.

“I know you only acted that way because you’re hurting and don’t wanna think about it,” he continues, “but please, you don’t have to box your emotions away like that. I wanna help. I wanna listen.”

Slowly, gently, he moves to place a hand on her shoulder. It feels like a small victory when she doesn’t shift upon his touch.

“Believe me, you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Again, nothing. She’s not even looking at him right now, and her jaw’s locked. Even her form feels tense under his fingers, with hard light pulsing back and forth under her illusory skin at an alarmingly unusual pace.

He sighs, gaze dropping towards the ground, towards the battered can she kicked aside earlier. “I’m worried, y’know? But... I understand if you’re not ready to talk… about Jasper, and—“

“Oh, hoh! That’s rich!” she explodes suddenly, jerking her arm away. “You seriously wanna bury your head in the sand and pretend this is just about Jasper?”

He tiptoes away from her rush of anger, eyes growing puffy. “I—“

“You wanna know how I feel, Steven? About your mom, and the whole awful mess she made? Do you really? ‘Cause I don’t have a single CLUE what I should feel anymore!”

Amethyst pauses for breath amidst her tirade, briefly locking sight with him with a glimmer of hurt reflected in her violet irises, showing that deep underneath all those twisted layers of anger and resentment she’s just another scared, abandoned Gem like him.

“Rose was everything to me, okay?” she says, throwing her palms wide for emphasis. “And all this time, I thought she was the one Crystal Gem who could be real with me. The only one who wouldn’t sugarcoat things or treat me like a baby. ‘Oh, you’re perfect the way you are, Amethyst!’” she coos in a fake, silky-sweet voice, cupping her cheeks as she openly mocks the very Gem who gave her life so he could exist. “You’re such a strong little quartz, you mean so much to me!’ Hah!”

She pauses to force a bitter laugh, clenching her hands into insufferably tight fists.

“And wasn’t that just a huge load of silt,” she spits, staring off into the rosy distance as if it were but a cruel mirage, the pain more than evident in the taut features of her face. “All along I thought she was this great, faultless person, just like you did. Except she wasn’t. She’s a liar, like everyone else. I’m worthless, just like Jasper said… and Rose knew it.”

Hesitantly, compassionately— heart breaking for the internal struggle she’s caught within, a struggle he intimately relates to— he tries once more to reach out in comfort.

“Amethyst…”

She sniffles, wiping away the leaking fluid pooling at the corners of her eyes.

(She does not, however, brush him away this time when he wraps his arms around her torso and nestles his head against her chest.)

“Just— forget it, okay?” she says after a quiet moment’s embrace, gently stepping back from his affection. “It’s whatever. Come on, Peridot and Ruby are waiting for us. Let’s dump this joint.”

__________

Ruby quietly shuffles across the loose soil, directing her eyes as low to the ground as possible to avoid having to stare at the Beta Kindergarten’s steep cliff walls. Red sandstone, Peridot proclaims a few feet away to their newly arrived sightseers, whirling in place with her arms extended wide. We’re lucky this place hasn’t blown away. Beta, am I right?

Steven manages a soft laugh at this. Amethyst continues onward with her arms crossed, unimpressed. But Ruby herself? Well, she’s the only Gem here who can say she crossed this infamous swath of sedimentary rock at its very beginning, on the day of emergence. The others may choose to laugh about how soft and unideal the soaring sandstone cliffs are, or about the uneven exit holes and curved walls, but in her opinion it’s no laughing matter. She’s seen firsthand how deadly even a so-called ‘imperfect’ Homeworld soldier can be. Even Garnet barely escaped with her gems intact.

Nervously flexing her fingers at her side as she tries not to dwell on that tragedy, she flashes her gaze upward, daring to catch even a passing glimpse of the top of the vast canyon. In an instant her vision swims with endless pillars of rusty oranges and reds.

Everything on this planet might as well tower over her without Sapphire. The once-welcoming arms of their temple? Monolithic. The vaulted ceilings of the beach house? Her eidetic memory can’t help but remind her of her early days spent marching through Homeworld’s diamond sized hallways with the rest of her squadron, patrolling the same route for well over five hundred cycles straight. The kicker? The Diamonds never had any reason to visit the shipment sector in person, anyways. The hallways were only constructed with such high ceilings to remind any Gem passing through of their rightful place under the Authority.

Over two hundred years, she adhered to their twisted rhetoric. Two hundred years of allowing everyone and everything around her to make her feel small, like she only existed for a singular purpose. Two hundred years of ignoring the tug of dissatisfaction at the core of her gem because of the misplaced belief that orderly subjugation under the Diamonds was simply the rightful pattern of existence. Then, in a beautiful bloom of light… she caught a glimpse of true freedom. And for the five thousand seven hundred years after that, Garnet didn’t feel quite so small anymore. She felt capable, confident, satisfied. Aided by Ruby’s physical strength and Sapphire’s future vision, she finally dared to challenge Homeworld’s rhetoric. She dared to live for herself.

Sighing under her breath, Ruby touches her fingers to the place in her right palm where her missing gem is, tracing the triangular shape of its illusory facets.

There’s no use arguing; Garnet was a better Crystal Gem than she can ever hope to be on her own. And now, because Rose just had to go and manipulate all of them, there’s a strong chance she’ll never get to be Garnet with her Sapphy ever again. Which means that until further notice, she’s stuck like this: short, stubby, and woefully insecure. Hah! Figures. All those years spent fighting against Homeworld’s warped notion that Gems had stagnant purposes and couldn’t grow beyond their stations, and now it’s as if she’s been dumped back at the beginning, like the past five millennia never happened.

It’s a cruel irony.

And yet it’s no crueler than this awful place: a cradle of birth manufactured as a tool of war, a Gem’s very existence leeching the life out of this once-fertile ground. The scars on the walls tell a mournful story, and as Ruby slowly trudges after her loved ones, fingers numb and fidgety in the wake of haunted disorientation, she can’t help but wish she wasn’t present for its prologue.

“Ruby…?”

Her sight trains on one of the tilted exit holes closest to ground level, on the messy silhouette it provides. She remembers this one, in fact, Garnet watched her emerge. She was a carnelian. By Homeworld’s standards, an imperfect one. That doesn’t matter, though. None of Homeworld’s lies matter. Running on nothing but the primary orders she was incubated with, (it wasn’t her fault, it was the Diamonds’, she reminds herself with a bitter growl), that Gem still emerged to poof three fellow rebels on sight. If Garnet hadn’t been so quick to retrieve their gemstones, they might have been shattered that day. Many of the others assigned to her squadron weren’t as lucky. Inhaling shakily, Ruby pauses to trace her fingers across a raised ridge in the rough, brittle sandstone.

“Hey, Ruby!” his energetic voice calls again, snapping her out of her intense focus like a fusion splitting in half.

“Aaaah!” she cries, swinging around and pulling both fists up in defense. Her hands uncoil rapidly once she catches a glimpse of that cheery yellow star.

Aw, scrap! she chides herself, repositioning her feet solid on the ground to regain some sense of internal balance. Damned startle reflex.

Unfazed, Steven grins boyishly, skipping a few steps away from the rest of the group to join her by the cliff wall. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Amethyst and Peridot are watching now too, she realizes, her brief but audible outburst thoroughly diverting their attention from their Beta Kindergarten roast session. Their quizzical glances pin her in place, her hard-light form heating in embarrassment as she struggles to organize the flow of her emotions in a way that might make sense to anyone beyond a fellow ruby. She scrunches up her nose and considers her next words carefully, attempting to strike the proper boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate to say in front of a half-human child. Stars knows Amethyst, Pearl, and herself haven’t had a great record with that over the past few days.

“Just thinkin’ about Sapphire, mostly,” she admits, offering him a saddened shrug. “Can’t seem to stop that, even half a world away.”

“Speaking of that... Why did you run after us?” Amethyst asks in a notably less cranky manner than earlier, lightly kicking at the dirt with the toes of her booties. “You never said.”

“Y’know, I…” She pauses, pressing her hand to her chin. “I’m not sure. I spent days waiting in front of the temple door. And eventually, I guess I figured that if she’s gonna make me wait no matter what, I might as well do something with myself until then. ‘Sides, I didn’t want to be lonely,” she adds, suddenly feeling just as small and vulnerable in front of all of them as her timid voice sounds.

She felt lonely enough when she ran away from home a few days ago, tears streaming in messy rivulets down her face, utterly spurning their attempts at comfort so she could pretend she was anything else than powerless amidst this nightmare. She never wanted to split, not at all. She begged Sapphire to give their relationship another chance, to believe in the strength of their love more than the fear of a diamond’s control, but tragically, her partner couldn’t hold up under the pressure. If one individual doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be Garnet, then Garnet cannot exist. They can’t synchronize. It’s simply the nature of fusion. And given her love’s avoidance, refusing to so much as leave her room to begin with, Ruby’s beginning to lose hope that their fusion will ever exist again. The crippling isolation that realization affords is the worst form of loneliness she can imagine.

Thus, the least she can do at the moment to mitigate these all-consuming feelings is to get off her butt, leave the temple, and ensure she’s surrounded by loved ones.

Peridot steeples her fingers together in front of her chest. “Well, what if you moved in with us?” she offers in a meek tone at first, her expression brightening as she continues to explain her idea. “The barn’s got plenty of room, and with two roommates you’d never have to feel lonely again!”

Steven’s dark irises practically sparkle. “Aww, Peridot, that’s super sweet of you to offer!”

“Wow, thanks,” she replies earnestly, puffing out her chest in a rush of personal pride. “I do try!”

“Yeah!” Ruby says with a hesitant laugh, scratching at the back of her neck. “That sounds amazing, but…”

“You should do it, Ruby!” he encourages, bouncing up and down on his sandaled feet amidst his excitement. “You should totally move in with them!”

“D’ya… d’ya really think so?”

“Yeah! It’d be like your very own vacation, but you’d only be a warp away!”

“And you’re sure you’d be fine with it? Y’know, with everything at home all…” She blows a juicy raspberry, jabbing her thumb down.

Amethyst serves her a big shrug. “I ain’t got a problem. Go crazy.”

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Steven says, smiling evenly. “I only want what’s best for you. And if you think not staying in the temple all the time would make you feel better, you should give it a try!”

Her concerned glance drops on the young half-Gem. Sure, it’s very compassionate of him, actively choosing to care so deeply for everyone’s emotional needs all the time, but home life for him hasn’t exactly been nurturing and hospitable lately. He already lost one of his pillars of stability when Garnet unfused. Pearl and Amethyst are at each other’s necks again. Sapphire hasn’t emerged from her room for days. Greg’s… doing whatever it is Greg does when he’s not hanging out with his son, probably keeping his distance from Gem business as usual. So with all that in mind, even if temporarily living apart from Sapphire is sure to be a beneficial move for her personal well-being and sanity, is now actually the proper time to consider a change in scenery? She purses her lips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peridot lets out a sharp squeal of delight, apparently ecstatic about the prospect of possibly gaining a new roommate. Ruby can’t help but grin at this response. In truth, if she didn’t have to consider the well-being of Steven and the rest of the Crystal Gems, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. After all, she’s never gotten the opportunity to make many decisions on her own. Heck, she’s never gotten the opportunity to do much of anything on her own. Every time she’s unfused within the last five thousand years, her priorities have always been about what Sapphire would want, what Sapphire would do.

Well, what about Ruby, this time? Aren’t her desires important? What does she want?

Long term… she has no clue. But right now? She’d prefer to avoid dire reminders of old sorrows at all costs, thank you. So when Peridot declares that she’s 99.9% positive she’s found Jasper’s exit hole, Ruby declines to join them in their roast session. She never came here for sightseeing, anyways. She came here as their lookout. Just in case. She’s never trusted this awful tear in the ground one bit, and she’s not about to start now.

Running instinctively on old programming she was incubated with, she creeps deeper between the narrow mouth of the cliffs and summons her gauntlets at her side. Sure, so maybe they’re not as daunting in their size as Garnet’s, but they can still pack one heck of a punch. She’s still good at punching on her own, yeah? Hopefully? Stars, it’s been so long since she’s gone solo for more than a few measly hours.

And then, at the cliff base in front of her, she spots the most unusual exit hole she’s seen in this miserable canyon yet. For one, it’s low to the ground, like Amethyst’s. That fact alone is enough to set off alarm bells in her head. On top of that, its silhouette is almost comically wide and indistinct, not resembling any cut of Gem she’s aware of.

“Huh. That’s different,” she murmurs, pacing closer to investigate.

Maybe an off-color topaz could punch a hole as wide as this? But… no, no. That can’t be right. Hard light coursing wildly through her form, Ruby dissipates one of her gauntlets and runs the tips of her fingers across the crumbly inside surface of this hole. A few granules of sandstone break off upon her touch and clatter against the ground, and she jerks her hand away as if touching impossibly cold ice. Something about this feels... wrong. To be fair, she’s no expert kindergartener like Peridot, but she’s pretty confident the interior of exit holes should be smooth, with striated rock layers extending all the way back. Instead, this bizarre scar in the cliffs almost seems like—

“It’s dug out,” she says, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Which means they may not be alone in this rusted relic of a Kindergarten after all.

Her body suddenly feeling staticky and unbalanced amidst all this damning uncertainty, she tiptoes away from this mysterious feature, slowly at first, and then�� as the fear begins to bubble up within her core like boiling water transformed under her power— transitioning into a sprint. We’re not alone, she repeats to herself in a harried mantra. Not alone. Not alone, we’re not alone, we’re—

Ruby’s foot catches on an uneven lip of stone jutting up from the ground, and she quickly plows headfirst into the coarse dirt, promptly ending her terror-stricken flight.

“Ow,” she whines as she recovers from this fall, rubbing at the side of her head. Not only is she a little dizzy, but her surroundings are made further hazy amidst the overbearing sunlight pounding indiscriminately upon the ground floor of this canyon. It’s enough disorientation to allow the jumbled code of her gem to begin to play tricks on her. For one, she swears she can hear this low, timid skittering, like thick claws rhythmically scraping against rock. Second, she’s half-convinced she can feel a surplus of physical vibrations radiating from the cliffs surrounding her. Squinting, she shields her eyes under a raised arm so she can begin to gain her bearings again. The blinding light recedes.

The red Gem gulps fearfully amidst the burning colors of the harsh sandstone landscape. “Wait, is that—“

She’s stumbled her way into a massive clearing, lined on all sides by stacked rows of holes physically dug into the sheer walls. Each opening is barred by a number of thick metal rods, stripped from the legs of the injectors that once incubated this hell in the first place. The thoughtful engineering imbued in this setup is impressive and terrifying all at once. Ignoring the tangible tug of hesitation at her core, she pushes herself back on her feet and creeps towards the closest cage to investigate further.

“Uh, you guys?” she calls loudly as she walks, the unusual curves of this canyon an undisputed blessing as they carry her message back to the others.

“Yeah?” Amethyst chimes back, her voice notably distant. Too distant.

“We’ve got, um—” her hand glides across one of the bent, rusty bars— “a bit of a problem here?”

“What?? Speak louder, we can’t hear you!”

Before she can even prepare to reply, a fur-covered monstrous creature leaps from the shadowy abyss of its prison and snaps its tusks at her. She yells, jerking her hand away from the cage and stumbling a few feet back. Her brow creases in abject confusion as she attempts to process what she’s seeing in front of her. It’s… it’s a corrupted Gem? This one’s most definitely a quartz; she recognizes the faceting, as well as the distinctive fur-covered quadrupedal shape of its corrupted form. But why on Earth is it being trapped within a cage in the middle of a defunct kindergarten instead of being placed in a bubble’s comforting stasis? The ground beneath her feet grows noticeably warmer as a rush of impassioned anger surges through her hard light form. She grinds her teeth together, flexing her fists at her side in the name of this cruel injustice. Caging isn’t part of Crystal Gem protocol for a reason!

Unfortunately, the horror show continues as her gaze passes over each and every cage in this clearing, finding scared, thrashing, corrupted Gems in almost all of them. Fluid builds up at the corner of her eyes as they scream and wail at her, riding a fresh wave of cacophony spurned by that Gem she spooked just a moment ago. How could anyone ever build such an awful place? And why?

Heavy, assured footfalls suddenly bounce across the acoustically encouraging slopes and surfaces of this ravine, magnified tenfold in their wake. Ruby gasps, wasting no time in ducking behind a tall rocky formation at the mouth of the clearing. That’s definitely not Amethyst or any of the others. It sounds too large, too bulky. She kneels low so she can still peek over the topmost layer of sandstone, a knot of dread coiling within as the footfalls continue to grow louder. Groaning, she clutches at her head. The unknown, the impenetrable shadow of the future… stars, it haunts her more than loneliness itself.

And then, the specter of her history reveals herself, making Ruby’s tangible form stutter in the sheer terror her appearance affords.

Jasper— her opponent, her nightmare, the Rebel Slayer herself— emerges from a plume of rising dust at the edge of this populous arena and enters the game.

#su #steven universe #ruby #amethyst #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff #crack the paragon

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

Text

The Last Night

Jordelia Fan-fiction

Lucie Herondale shook with the knowledge she had just learned about the bracelet that her brother wore so loyally. If Matthew hadn’t been there to hold her arms back, she would have gladly hit Grace Blackthorn with her tightly wound fist.

Back in Matthew’s car, she glared out the window at the gray London skyline, bracing herself as Matthew sped past a group of boys on bicycles, narrowly hitting a car passing on the other side of the uneven cobblestone street.

“We need to find James and get that bracelet.”

“You heard what she said,” Matthew argued. “He won’t willingly take it off.”

“Then we take it off of him,” shouted Lucie, sounding terribly like her mother when Tessa rarely showed aggression, which was usually elicited by someone talking about her family or her close friend in a way that she deemed cruel or unkind. “You hold him down,” Lucie continued, “and I’ll rip the bloody bracelet off and smash it into pieces.”

The terrible things she had said to James when she couldn’t find Cordelia made her cringe. She wished she could take them all back, but knew that she couldn’t. The truth was, she was angry at herself more than him. They were to be parabatai, she should know how to find Cordelia. She should know the place Cordelia would look to for solace, for strength, and they should be a place of solace and strength for each other.

“Lucie.” Matthew reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be all right.”

Lucie wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his words, but something dreadful told her that it wouldn’t. It couldn’t possibly be all right.

* * *

Cordelia stole a moment before she entered through the door. The weight of her sword Cortana across her back served as a reminder of her courage and strength. The light from the fire inside flickered under the door casting a warm orange glow across her feet that she wishes would extend to the dark corners of her mind and warm her heart. Her fingers shook where they grabbed her thin, silk coverlet; focused on the light beading in the design of daisies. She’d tried to dress in a manner that she thought he would like. If it were to be his last memory of her, she wanted it to be a good one.

Her hand hovered in the air for a moment and she thought dreadfully of turning around. All of her life she’d lived in lies. Lies her brother wove to protect her. Lie her father designed to protect himself. Even lies her mother told to protect everyone. She would not lie to herself, even if it tore her very heart out of her chest. Even if it darkened her dreams and erased her fantasies forever. Even if it meant she was ruined.

She felt ruined already.

The door opened and her heart quickened in her chest. Jamie stood in front of her, his crown of dark curls fell into his eyes that were circled in darkness. His eyes blazed yellow like the glow of the fire light. He hadn’t changed out of his clothes from the night before and she wondered, darkly, if it was because they still smelled like Grace.

The image of the two of them locked in a passionate embrace violated her thoughts. She caught her breath and focused on the undone button just below his clavicle.

“Daisy,” his voice was rough. “Where have you been? Everyone has been out looking for you. You had us all worried.”

He reached out for her, the silver bracelet catching the candle light. She stepped back before he could reach her.

A muscle in his jaw tightened as he swallowed. His hands, empty, opened and closed as they dropped back down to his sides. “Cordelia…” She had never heard her name said in such a way, as if it were the most important word. It was nearly enough to shatter her. “I cannot properly express how sorry I am, but if you could please, allow me to explain.”

“It’s not necessary James,” she said, not unkindly. If she could, she would listen to him talk all night long and forget any animosity that she felt towards him, but she needed it to give her strength for what she was about to do next.

“This is entirely difficult for me to say.” She wished she could go on the other side of the door and say what she needed to say instead of saying it to his face, but that felt incredibly cowardly. “Growing up, I was very much alone. I had my brother, of course, but we were very different and often wanted different things. To spend the time, I would read anything I could get my hands on, because of that, I think that I created a fantasy in my head. It was very difficult to let the outside world in. To let the truth in and ruin it, which is why I think it was so easy for me to say yes to your proposal, because it made sense for my fantasy. But James, I feel as if it was the most selfish thing of me to do.”

“Selfish?” Jamie shook his head. “Daisy, I have been the selfish one, not you.”

“Please, let me finish.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “When you asked me to marry you, I saw a life so different from the one that I am living. A life surrounded by people who love me and people who I love. I promised myself if I ever found that within my possession I would never let it go.”

“It can still be yours.” James, ignoring her protest, reached for her again. This time, his hands wrapped around her wrists and brought her scarred hands up to his mouth. She allowed him to kiss the tops of her fingers; the promise ring he’d slid onto the second to last on her left hand. “Do not let what I’ve done take this away.”

“I cannot marry you James.” The words spilled from her by their own volition.

He released her as if she’d burned him. “It’s only for a year. We will come up with a lie and you’ll be free to marry whomever you choose. Someone who can—”

“What?” She asked. “Someone who can love me?”

Who could ever love you like that?

The fire was quickly dying behind James allowing a chill and darkness to descend upon the room. His eyes, burning embers and gold, held her gaze and filled with a terrible sadness.

“Where will you go?” His eyes darted away from her face and then back again.

“Home. To Idris,” she said. It was mostly true. She wouldn’t go home to stay. Being a ruined woman and all, her options were limited and she couldn’t stand the idea of returning to the lonely life that was left for her in Idris. Alastair promised to return with her and keep her company, but she couldn’t subjecting him to the same fate she sealed for herself. The idea came to her in a dream. She joined the Iron Sisters where she forged weapons as strong as the one that hung on her back.

“What about Lucie?” His eyes blazed and his tone turned chagrin. “It’ll break her heart.”

“So would losing her brother,” said Cordelia. “I don’t regret what I did. Not for a single moment. Lucie will understand. She is clever and will make anyone a wonderful parabatai.”

“And what of the rest of us?” James took a step towards her, closing the distance between them. “Anna. The Merry Thieves. My father, who told me if I hurt you, he’d throw me into the Thames.”

Cordelia smiled, but she suspected it looked more like a grimace.

“We’ve all grown to appreciate your presence in our lives,” continued James. “It will be like ripping pages out of a book; nothing makes sense without it.”

His features blurred together through her water-rimmed eyes when she looked up at him again. “You will fill it with something else- someone else.”

“No.” The word was a breath on his lips.

The grandfather clock on the wall startled her as it chimed eleven times . If she didn’t leave soon, Alastair would come in looking for her and she wasn’t sure she could stop him from enacting his threat to deal James a world of pain for hurting her. It took her a great deal to calm him down before she wasn’t sure she could do it again.

It didn’t matter though. She had said all she needed to say except the two words she needed to, but couldn’t bring herself to say.

So instead, she turned from him and walked towards the door, except her foot caught on the Persian rug and she stumbled downwards when a hand caught her wrist. Another wrapped around her waist, spinning her back, and she was crushed again him. His face buried in her neck. His arms like a vice, leaving her breathless.

“James,” she sobbed.

“I can’t— I don’t want to lose you.” His words were muffled against her skin. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her jaw, her cheek, until his mouth hovered over hers. An invitation. All she would need to do was look up, but it’d be her choice.

Her hands went from his shoulders to his face to stop him, or to stop herself, she wasn’t sure. She slid the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip, wet with his tears, and remembered what it felt like to kiss him in the Whispering Room of The Hell Ruelle. Warmth climbed up her chest and into her cheeks.

It had been a kiss of passion and one that she didn’t want to replace with one of sadness and regret.

“My father once told me that love is like the flame of a candle.” She felt his chest press against hers when he breathed. Every inch of him touched every inch of her. “To keep it lit you need to protect it. Block it from even the slightest breeze and it will carry you through even the darkest of times. I thought, for the briefest moment, that maybe if I kept my light, my love, burning maybe one day one would grow for you too.” Her hands slid down to his chest, and as gently as she could, she pushed him away. “But I see now that’s not possible. Not when you have a flame that burns so brightly for someone else.”

James opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. It hurt worse than any broken bone, cut, or bruise she’d ever endured. She had the answer she’d come for. She could stand no more torment.

Slowly, she backed away from him, until she was nearly at the door.

His hand circled his other wrist, around the bracelet, as if he were going to take it off.

“I wanted so badly to marry you.” She quickly wiped at a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “But a year with you, as your wife, is not possibly long enough.”

“Cordelia— I”

“Goodbye James,” she whispered into the space between them and took her leave before anymore words could be said.

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lovecolibri · 3 years

Note

SaL anon here and since I hit you with some pretty heavy feels yesterday I'll lighten things up today with The Projectionist. I love the music in this song, I don't think you can listen to it and not be happy and I love the film imagery he uses throughout the song. His voice during the chorus is so excited and hopeful, i always smile. We can add this to ever-growing list of songs-I want-for-Malex-in-S3 summed up perfectly by the chorus "we're leaving, we're leaving our shadows behind us now".

Oooooh, Nonnie this is such a good one and much needed after the absolute feels punch of Silhouettes. I love this song, it’s from the Light EP and is so bright and cheerful sounding and just has some lovely imagery and such a hopeful feel.

when i was young i fell in love with story, with the eleventh hour, with the blaze of glory.

the theater lights dim and all goes quiet. in the darkest of rooms, light shines the brightest.

when hands are tied and clocks are ticking, an audience convinced: we’re leaning in, holding our breath again.

just when we thought the game was over the music lifts and our dying solider lives! and we breathe a sigh of relief.

we’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. we’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now.

Oh man, I really do love this song. The film imagery is so interesting and how he makes it work without being too much or too cheesy or sounding like it’s forced is just, pure talent. No one is doing it like him! It’s confirmed that Alex is a Star Wars nerd (at least a little bit) and oof the story of a lost kid with an evil father that gets turned to the light at the end? Of facing fears and learning to control your emotions and cut off attachments because fear leads to anger and anger leads to hate and hate leads to suffering? Excuse me, I think I need a moment. *screams into pillow* Okay, I’m fine. This is fine. *mumble mumble something about the joy and pain of finding ourselves reflected in media, mumble* Also, the line about “our dying solider lives” naturally gives me all the Alex vibes and if we do not get a handprint healing where the music lifts to let us know things are going to be okay, I’m going to riot (read: scoff at my tv and complain privately to my shower wall).

but even dust was made to settle and if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different? i guess we give what we’ve been given: a family tree so very good at giving up when we’ve had enough. though truth is heavier than fiction, gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls tape. and it makes us brave again and it makes us brave again and it makes us brave.

So this section has some of the best imagery and this song has another one of my top favorite lines, “but even dust was made to settle and if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different?” I just love that imagery so much. It makes me think of Malex finding a home in each other and settling down together. And the line about family trees and giving up just hits all those Malex feels about their difficult childhoods. I also really love the end bit about truth being heavy but how seeing stories that we resonate with can make us brave. It just so good and really gets me in my fandom feels. 😭

so we’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. we’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now. and it makes us brave again and it makes us brave. we’re leaving, we’re leaving ‘em all behind for now.

I know, we absolutely say this ever time, but I am manifesting Malex leaving their shadows behind and being brave in season 3. It’s been 84 years, we all (the fandom, Malex, Vlamis and Tyler) deserve to see it!

youtube

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #roswell nm #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #sleeping at last #the projectionist #love love love this song #it has all the bright hopeful vibes #much needed after having to think about silhouettes in relation to literally any of my favorite characters #i have a type okay?#and that type is 'men who need all of the soft hugs'

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

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"So… to answer your earlier question, no, I never stopped to think that maybe one day I'd fall in love with someone, and that I'd REGRET my encounters with those women BY THEN." Now I quoted right. This is a contradiction. There a some contradictions regarding this in your fanfic and answers. The same with having an erotic dream. He regrets it now. Because he didn't think he would fall in love with Azula.

I’ve likely said I’m done answering asks of this nature a thousand times. Hell knows why I’m bothering to do it now, but I really think it’s the last time I’ll bother, despite I ALREADY know that nothing I say will actually register in your head.

You refuse to accept any arguments I’ve presented to you, perhaps because you don’t bother reading my answers to give them actual thought, as you’re stuck in your perception of Sokka as some appalling, disloyal man despite the fact that he’s been 100% devoted to Azula since he first accepted his feelings for her properly (chapter 55). He has been with her, in-story, for about 2 years already, and he has never shown the slightest interest in any women besides Azula throughout those years.

But according to you, he’s the worst because he had one erotic dream about someone else before he had any sort of relationship with Azula, and because of his nightmarish experiences in Hui Yi.

Okay. My bad. You’ve finally convinced me of WHY I shouldn’t have panned over those two years in Hui Yi and jumped right in with the story I wanted to tell. Maybe if I had gone the show-don’t-tell route with that, despite I didn’t particularly want to, I wouldn’t be receiving asks like yours. And boy, I really would like that.

Warning: I’m really at my wits’ end. I thought to tone down my answer. I even did in many ways. But consider my patience tried, tested and broken, and if I sound far more aggressive and outraged than usual, it’s because I am. Please, learn from that, if you won’t learn from anything else.

So, apparently Gladiator’s Sokka must be some sort of terrible person, going by your fixation with this topic, and a bad love interest for Azula, because he doesn’t regret what happened in Hui Yi, in the classic sense of the word, right away. And I suppose you expect me to back down on this and say you’re right, oh no, he totally SHOULD have regretted it all along!

Well, the truth is, Sokka regrets one very specific thing all along: being stuck in a situation where he has no choices, where he has to live by the fucked up rules of someone like Huang Li. THAT is what he regrets. And NO, that is not a contradiction. I’m bluntly stating it. It’s a FACT. It’s something every last one of his recollections about Hui Yi is permeated with.

Why doesn’t he regret what he did with SEVEN, btw, SEVEN girls in Hui Yi? And I specify this because I suspect it was you who sent an ask about how it was ELEVEN? Checking 112, I find Sokka said in the middle of his explanations to Azula that eleven people survived: he’s talking about the GLADIATORS at that point, something that should be obvious by context, but apparently I have to waste hours of my time spelling things out one by one to anons, huh? That comment is NOT about how many people he was with, this is about the gladiators who had survived by the time Azula bought him off Huang Li. He outright told Azula the exact number of girls in the previous chapter, and she reached her own conclusions. That you (or whoever it was) misreads the chapters to this extent just to piss yourselves off further is proving how POINTLESS this entire debate is. You people (or you alone) don’t want to hear reason. You want to poke holes into the story that aren’t even there, to demand retribution from a fictional man who already went through hell on earth, just because he wasn’t 100% pure and untainted when he reached Azula’s bed. I’ve asked you to have empathy for his character before, clearly that you still send asks like these proves my request has gone to waste.

Well, let’s come back to the point: why doesn’t he regret it? BECAUSE OF THE FIRST WOMAN. Because of what happened to the one he outright put a stop to, because this wasn’t what he wanted, and the woman stopped indeed because she didn’t want to have sex with Sokka any more than he wanted it with her, and then they spent hours talking, and he offered her an emotional sort of comfort by being a decent guy who let her relax instead of forcing her to do things she wouldn’t want to...

AND THEN SHE GOT HER HAND CUT OFF FOR IT. AND SHE WAS TREATED AS A LESSER SLAVE AND HUMAN BEING BECAUSE OF IT.

According to you, upon hearing this story from the next girl who went for him, Sokka should’ve been like “Well damn, I do feel sorry for lady #1, the only person I’ve ever bonded with in Hui Yi, she’s been crippled for life and might even die from an infection for all I know, considering how damn hygienic Hui Yi has always been, but you see, lady #2, I must keep my body ~pure~ because one day I’m going to fall in love with someone and she won’t be with me if I was with sex slaves, despite I could ensure no other girls have to go through what lady #1 went through if I actually do sleep with you”. At least, that’s what I’m understanding out of your asks.

Well, great. Then he would’ve condemned this second girl to the exact same fate as the first :)

And the third :)

And however many there might have been :)

According to you, he should regret that he was with them right away, no matter if he actively felt like shit about what was going on, if it was the darkest period of his life: well, HERE is why he doesn’t regret it. Because if he HADN’T done it, those girls would’ve had it WORSE. The fact that I need to spell this out to you, in this way, is frankly ridiculous to me. You really could’ve reached that conclusion on your own if you had just TRIED, which makes me think you’re not trying at all. Anyone who’s old enough to read M-Rated fiction should be capable of connecting such basic, obvious dots. That you refuse to do it only to barge into my inbox demanding for me to explain every writing decision I make that you dislike, really doesn’t speak well of you.

So no, Sokka doesn’t REGRET what happened with those women right away because he was doing what he could to ensure they wouldn’t be tortured or maimed, at worst even KILLED, if it was discovered they hadn’t “fulfilled their duties”. Oh, but he would have been a damn great person if only he had decided to retain his “integrity” instead of saving innocent people’s lives, according to you...! :’D

Well, turns out if he had chosen to retain his integrity above all else, he probably would be dead by now. Because he wouldn’t have ever defeated a single gladiator in Hui Yi, not even the first one he fought, because he would have refused to kill anyone who wasn’t truly his enemy.

And there we go, story over :’) thank you for this glimpse into how short Gladiator would be if Aang was my protagonist. Very nice.

So of course, I suppose you’ll ask now why does he regret having done this years later, if he wasn’t sorry back then and his argument is so solid (not that you’ll think it is, why even imagine you would? Apparently sex slaves deserve to die, as far as I can understand of what you’ve said so far)?

He regrets it now because, with that much distance between himself and what happened in Hui Yi, with that much time spent with someone he grew to love beyond he ever belived possible, he would MUCH RATHER have been a complete novice at everything and discovered everything about sex with her.

“Truth be told, I would have rather not been experienced at all… then again, if I hadn't been, our first time would have been a disaster, but… but it might have been worth all the more to learn all about this together, huh?”

He HATES that he had no choice but to go for it back then. He’s not proud of it in the least. If rejecting them wouldn’t have had such violent, catastrophic results, he would have always pushed them away. But he didn’t do that, AND he owns up to it in those chapters, even though he expects Azula will be as merciless as you appear to be and conclude he’s not worth her time anymore. Curiously, Azula actually understands that Sokka’s actions, especially those from BEFORE they were anything but enemies, back when he absolutely hated her, aren’t representative of who he is NOW. I can’t quite understand how that’s a concept that eludes you so badly, Anon.

Now, about the damn matter of him having an erotic dream about someone other than Azula, BEFORE having any about Azula (in case you didn’t notice, Sokka doesn’t tell June exactly WHEN he had this dream, so if you’re assuming it happened in recent times you’re basically only doing that to further rile up yourself against him? Which is, quite honestly, like shooting yourself in the foot): I take it you’ve never had any dreams in your life, have you, Anon? And I don’t mean erotic ones, I mean ANY dreams, whatsoever: can you control your dreams? Because if you can, boy, you’re pretty darn impressive! I’ve had some really ridiculous dreams, one that comes to mind was that I standing on a tight rope that I was suspended right above a waterfall, and I was about to fall. I was panicking like never before, despite the fact that, in real life, I’m not afraid of heights, I’ve never had any experiences with tight ropes and I think waterfalls are beautiful. And this is just ONE example, one very random example, of how dreams aren’t at all representative of a person’s true self.

Now then, please, tell me why on earth are you trying to hold this fictional man accountable for a completely random dream he had, BEFORE he had anything romantic with his love interest??? Can’t you tell how utterly unreasonable this is? It’s blowing me away that you’re not only clinging to this topic so badly, in this obsession to turn Sokka into some sort of monstrous, inadequate, terrible love interest for Azula, but that you’ve brought up this subject of him dreaming about one other woman in previous asks and submissions (that I didn’t answer because of how hard I facepalmed at them), as if it were ultimate proof of how untrustworthy he is. Normal people CAN’T control their dreams. Azula COULDN’T control her dream about Ursa back in Ember Island’s arc, she also couldn’t control the absolutely ridiculous dream she had in the Northern Air Temple, where she claims she’s carrying a baby for a friend! Are you going to come after her next, demanding that she is held accountable for having claimed she was carrying someone else’s fictional baby instead of proudly owning up to having a kid with the love of her life? Because, if you can tell that dream is just a pile of ridiculousness, I can’t see how you take this one of Sokka’s, which wasn’t even written because it was utterly irrelevant to the story, to mean ANYTHING. ESPECIALLY when said dream is explicitly said to have happened BEFORE he dreamt about Azula, which, once he wakes up, is what triggers his conscious, first real thoughts about Azula as a love interest!

*heavy breathing* Okay. Okay. That’s a lot to say. But I think I’m not done yet. I’m going to take advantage of this ask to quote a few things that have showed up in my inbox, that I didn’t reply to because I didn’t feel like it, plainly:

I wanted to know if Sokka would go the same way he did in the beginning with replacing Azula if she WOULD NOT be a princess?

... Why the hell is this even a question? The ENTIRE problem posed by Sokka and Azula’s relationship is that she IS a Princess and he’s a slave! Azula knows it! Sokka knows it! They both have thought and even outright said it countless times! How the heck does anyone, whether the same Anon as before or another one, if you were different people, read an ENTIRE story predicated on forbidden love between a Princess and a slave and not understand that the two main reasons these two SHOULDN’T want to be together, in the earliest arcs of the story, are:

She is RESPONSIBLE for turning him into a slave, which then caused him to spend 2 years suffering in what I THOUGHT was the worst possible depiction of the Fire Nation’s darkest tendencies but it apparently went over all your anon heads: he spent TWO YEARS holding the worst grudge against her for this, a grudge he still hasn’t completely let go of at chapter 28, hence why he continues to tell himself, back in those days, that he should hate her and why he doesn’t want to fall in love with her...

SHE IS A PRINCESS AND HE IS A SLAVE AND THERE’S NO WAY THEIR LOVE WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING UNLESS OZAI DIES, AZULA IS CROWNED AND SHE GETS TO MARRY HIM SO THEY CAN DO WHATEVER THEY WANT.

Seriously. It doesn’t take that much braining. It’s bloody stated constantly through the story. Will you people stop wondering why it’s important that she’s a Princess once we FINALLY reach Part 3 and the obvious consequences of their big romance are known? Or are you going to continue pretending there’s no reasons, whether characterization or world-building reasons, why these two have been keeping their relationship secret, and why the struggled that badly to cope with the feelings they developed for each other when they were in denial about it ages ago?

Anyways, if I really HAVE to answer this question, NO, if Sokka had started having feelings for a non-royal Azula and he didn’t think he’d ruin her life by acting on them, he wouldn’t have tried to flirt with Suki. He wouldn’t have slept with June. He wouldn’t have done any of the things he did in that arc, his reservations towards Azula wouldn’t be as strong as they are BECAUSE she’s a Princess, which means that being with her could outright cause her life to go to hell and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want that for Azula, even before he accepts his feelings for her. If he wouldn’t ruin her life, he probably would have been reluctant anyways due to their unresolved bad blood (point #1 up there?), but he wouldn’t have been so sure they CAN’T be together, so he wouldn’t even have flirted with Suki and this entire plot arc wouldn’t be necessary.

But that’s NOT the story we’re getting. Why? BECAUSE AZULA BEING A PRINCESS IS ESSENTIAL TO THE STORY??? I MEAN??? IS THIS REALLY SOMETHING I HAVE TO EXPLAIN??? SHE IS ONE IN CANON??? SHE IS ONE HERE??? WHY WOULDN’T SHE BE A PRINCESS???

... Dear god, have mercy on me. You really make me feel like I have devoted 7 years of my life to a huge waste of time if I can’t even get the most obvious plot points of the story across to you people.

One girl instance maybe but my shipper heart could never make Sokka get involved with SO MANY girls. 11? Will it keep growing?

This is the one Anon I was talking about earlier. Ha. Fucking HILARIOUS. Not only purposefully misunderstanding that it’s ELEVEN GIRLS, but asking if the number of girls Sokka will get involved with will increase beyond an already false number? Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?

What does commitment mean to you, goddammit. What do you even think the word stands for? Seriously, if you were to fall in love with someone, and then it doesn’t work out, but you find a second person later who seems perfectly nice and everything you DO need... would you say “Oh no but I already soiled myself by loving someone else, I AM UNWORTHY OF YOU!!”, because you made a commitment in the past that didn’t pay off, which, for some fucked up reason beyond my understanding, means you can’t commit to someone new?

This is Disney Romance logic. Hell, Disney Romances are more complex than your thinking, actually! Anna from Frozen is ready to marry Hans, ends up realizing Hans was an asshole at the worst possible timing and goes for Kristoff later instead: are we going to stone her for not realizing Hans was the worst right away? How on EARTH could she commit to Kristoff now, when she had been ready to be with another guy BEFORE she even met him?!?!

Another example: Meg from Hercules! She falls for a guy, literally SELLS her soul to Hades for him, and the douchebag ditches her for another girl. At this point, Hercules (at least, film-wise) has been a perfectly pure virginal boy and he falls for Meg dorkily: IS MEG THE WORST WOMAN EVER, UNWORTHY OF HERCULES AND ALL HIS HARD WORK FOR HER, BECAUSE SHE ALREADY HAD LOVED ANOTHER GUY BEFORE HIM AND HERCULES DOESN’T HAVE AS MANY EXPERIENCES WITH LOVE AS SHE DOES???

Sounds extreme? Well, that is literally what that question sounds like to me, Anon.

People in this world get into as many relationships as they want to. People don’t always find love right away. People can fall in and out of love. People can have meaningless encounters with others just because they feel like it.

And even then, there’s a chance any of those people will eventually find someone they will be happy with, for good, for the rest of their lives! Why the HELL would their past have anything to do with their ability to commit to the “right” partner in the future? Commitment ISN’T about having no romances or relationships with anyone else until you found the right person: commitment is about THE RIGHT PERSON. It’s about CHOOSING that person, for good, for the rest of your life if that’s how you want it! If you’re “committed” to someone but all you ever do is look at how many people they were with before you, or thinking “he’s gonna cheat on me as soon as I tear my eyes off him”, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM. IT’S NOT YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER, IT’S YOU.

Because you don’t trust the guy! Because you refuse to believe his commitment to you is real! And hell, in some cases, maybe it’s not real! Maybe the person in question is going to cheat on you! But in some cases it is, and how the FUCK would you feel if you were in a relationship with someone who keeps assuming your love for them isn’t real? Someone who thinks your commitment to them is false because as soon as you find a better offer, you’ll go running and ditch them, no matter if you have said and proven you love them a thousand times? If that person kept trying to control who you’re friends with, who you talk to, if you’re close to anyone you COULD MAYBE HAVE any romantic history or attachment to? That’s fucking TOXIC. And that’s a thousand times worse than ANYTHING I’ve written between Azula and Sokka, just an FYI. I honestly despise how this shit has been romanticized often by newer generations, such as boyfriends or girlfriends going through their partner’s messages with other people to make sure they’re not being cheated on: this is sick. It’s stupid to be with someone if you’re CONSTANTLY SECOND-GUESSING YOUR RELATIONSHIP. FOR THAT MATTER, DON’T BE IN A RELATIONSHIP AT ALL.

And see, Azula hasn’t second-guessed Sokka in ages. She really hasn’t. After that conversation in 112, Azula UNDERSTOOD what I’ve been trying to tell you all along: Sokka’s past doesn’t determine his future. He often made mistakes, bad decisions, mostly making them as a consequence of the pain he has endured, but he’s making a constant effort to make the right decisions by Azula since AGES before they have this conversation. After June he has no other one-night-stands. He shows no real interest in any other girls. He outright begged Azula to help him get rid of his goddamn stalker, who HARASSED him and left her goddamn underwear in his bed (he bloody CHANGED the entire bed due to how disgusted he was by this behavior).

Please, explain: how the fuck you see a guy who has spent about 125 chapters conscisouly growing, developing and fully commiting himself to a girl as a guy who will cheat on her and have more relationships and find more girls?

Want me to come out with something you won’t see coming, dear Anon?

AZULA IS GOING TO HAVE AN EXPERIENCE WITH SOMEONE OTHER THAN SOKKA IN THE FUTURE, EVEN AFTER HAVING COMMITTED FULLY TO HIM IN EVERY SENSE THAT COUNTS. THE CRIME YOU’RE SO DAMN AFRAID SOKKA WILL COMMIT? IT’LL BE AZULA COMMITTING IT, NOT HIM.

And in the mean time, Sokka won’t ever be with anyone but Azula until the time he dies :’) something I’ve ALREADY answered in many asks in the past.

Wow. Spoilers much? Well, you fucking asked for it. I’m so damn tired of this, Anon. I’m seriously, SERIOUSLY, tired of this. But I HAVE to keep going :’) because if I don’t? You’ll come back. And I really don’t want you to.

Why did you absolutely want to make Sokka sleep with someone different that day? From my get Sokka was already angry at Azula and the things would've been not any different if he wouldn't have done it. So why did you have the need to make him sleep with someone that badly when things wouldnt be any different. Only the falling into forest wouldve been a bit different. I can't see why this sleeping with someone was so neccessary. Why was it important for you?

Why did I absolutely want it? I didn’t. I actually didn’t.

Here’s a funny secret: my beta at the time was the one to suggest Sokka could do this. I wasn’t exactly big on the idea, until the character of June popped in my head and I realized that actually might work within the story: she’s not only physically similar enough to Azula that I could get away with basically writing it as a Sokkla hate-sex scene until Sokka realizes it’s not her, but June is also a completely free-spirited character whose entire priorities in the world are money and her shirshu. That’s literally it. With a character like June? There was no need to worry about the unpleasant twists I often see in fics where the main couple aren’t together yet, and either one or both members of the couple go for other people until they finally choose to be together: June WASN’T going to fall in love with Sokka. She doesn’t give a flying fuck about him. She’s amused by the situation until she’s annoyed by him. Then she’s amused again when she connects the dots once she sees Azula and Sokka at the nasty town where they bump into each other. And she ONLY grows fond of Sokka at the same time as she grows fond of Azula: IN JEONG JEONG’S ARC :’) Before that? These two probably don’t even cross her mind outside of hearing occasional rumors about Azula, and then she probably just used to go “lol I wonder if she finally had the guts to make a move on him”.

Hence, June was my ideal choice. She didn’t care. She doesn’t give a single fuck in 28. She’s just in it for her own amusement, for her own satisfaction. Anyone else? An OC, Suki, anyone else who could’ve crossed my mind? They might have actually developed feelings for Sokka. And I didn’t want THAT. Hence, I didn’t do that. I chose June because I wanted this to be a bad moment that would stay in the past with no chances of rekindling in the future.

Now, why did I follow suit with my beta’s suggestion? Because she was right about one thing, at the time: Sokka isn’t committed to Azula at this point. Sokka is furious upon thinking he’s fallen into Azula’s web and he refuses to play her game. That he ends up sleeping with someone else, and going to her that night, and shouting all the things he does, was Sokka’s attempt to defy Azula’s eagerness to control his life, which, yes, she is attempting to do just that. She’s developing feelings for him, sure, but she doesn’t want him to be free to choose because she’s SURE he won’t ever choose her. A main element in Azula’s Part 1 character development was meant to be about teaching Azula that upon building a real, honest bond with Sokka, he’d end up choosing her above everything else, WHICH, BY THE TIME SHE’S LEARNED TO GIVE HIM SUCH FREEDOM, HE DOES.

Sokka isn’t a perfect romance lead. I never planned for him to be that. I have written perfect romance leads! Fact is, Rui Shi is basically that, isn’t he? So I don’t even have to dig around to find an example. Sokka was NEVER meant to be perfect. And his starting point with Azula is DREADFUL. He is absolutely attracted to her physically, but his constant resisting of their attraction results in him making terrible mistakes that he has to own up to, AND HE DOES :’) Constantly. He doesn’t EVER force Azula to think she must be committed to him, because he doesn’t even feel worthy of her most the damn time! All of it, due to those mistakes he made! Azula outright has to tell him to forgive himself because he just won’t do it! :’D He’s even worse about this than you are, Anon, fancy that!

And why isn’t Sokka a perfect romance lead, even if I’ve done my very best in recent arcs to make him as romantic and caring and giving towards Azula as he possibly can be? Because I don’t care for writing a static, boring, simplistic story. I just don’t. There’s too much baggage, too much drama, too many things Sokka and Azula HAD to resolve before their relationship reached the heights it has.

So, sure, let’s imagine Sokka doesn’t sleep with June. Then, Azula doesn’t know he’s ever been with someone else, because he’s ashamed of what he HAD TO DO in Hui Yi and doesn’t want her to know about it anyhow: once she finds out about it, she’ll feel a thousand times more betrayed than she already did because she would have wrongfully assumed he was every bit as pure as she was. How NICE it would be if he hadn’t been with anyone that night! :’)

But let’s focus on the plot for a sec, will we? Forget about Xin Long: if Sokka hadn’t met June beforehand, and she doesn’t understand what’s up with Sokka and Azula, June won’t give a single crap about Azula’s plight and won’t tell her where the Rough Rhinos went :’) then, chances are the Rough Rhinos escape. And if the Rough Rhinos escape, Azula’s first big successful mission is a failure. She doesn’t get lost with Sokka in the forest, she doesn’t find her dragon, she fails her father and she probably won’t have many other opportunities to prove herself in the future. Iroh gets away with proving Azula can’t fulfill Ozai’s expectations, and probably uses this as leverage to convince more of Ozai’s court that Zuko is a better candidate for the throne, considering he’s already the firstborn child :’)

LOVELY, ISN’T IT??? :’)

Sokka wasn’t that angry until he does sleep with June, because by then he confirms what he already suspects: he can’t get Azula out of his mind, no matter what. His ENTIRE plan with June (and Suki) was to get involved with any other woman so he could get rid of his feelings for Azula by basically transferring them to someone else. To break free from Azula’s influence on him. Why?

BECAUSE HE DOESN’T WANT TO LOVE THE WOMAN WHO, EVEN IF INDIRECTLY, PUT HIM THROUGH THE HELL OF HUI YI.

THE WOMAN WHO DRAGGED HIM AWAY FROM HOME.

THE WOMAN WHO HOLDS HERSELF RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERYTHING THAT WENT WRONG IN SOKKA’S LIFE, EVEN IF SOKKA HIMSELF WON’T HOLD HER ACCOUNTABLE FOR MOST OF THESE THINGS ANYMORE.

No, I don’t think it’s unreasonable for him to feel this way about Azula. They had been getting to know each other for a few months, sure! But half that process had been arguments and spats, clashes and problems that sometimes had terrible outcomes. Remember Azula was outright ready to ditch Sokka as her gladiator after his second fight? She was DETERMINED to do that, until she received a challenge by the Blind Bandit, and she took advantage of this challenge to TEST SOKKA. TO SEE IF HE HAD LEARNED HIS LESSON, ONLY FOR HIM TO END UP HALF-DEAD AS A RESULT.

Can’t you tell both of them made a thousand mistakes, ESPECIALLY at the start of the story?

IT’S NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT’S DELIBERATE. I WANTED THEM TO MAKE THOSE MISTAKES! BECAUSE CHARACTERS WHO MAKE MISTAKES LEND THEMSELVES FOR BETTER STORIES!

I am sick to my core of the Internet’s purity bullshit of the past years. It’s disgusting to me. The fact that I’ve read there are writers out there who are outright whitewashing their own characters’s worst traits in major media content instead of working them out narratively? It makes me want to hurl. This is NOT quality storytelling. If you, as a writer, choose a setting with specific strife and difficult themes, you don’t get away with shirking off those themes and pretending they’re not there because “oh no, someone will be uncomfortable and I can’t possibly risk that!” You don’t write a character as racist on one season only to downplay the racism in later seasons, with no development needed, so that people won’t hate that character as much as they used to (that link is a specific, direct example of what I’m referring to, one that hopefully will explain why, when my characters fuck up, I do my best to make them 1. own up to it 2. learn from it 3. never make the same mistakes again :’) but I don’t even know if you’ll bother watching five minutes of an explanation, considering you’ll probably stopped reading my reply about 5K words ago).

Hence, I wrote Sokka making the mistakes he made DELIBERATELY. 100% KNOWINGLY. I knew there would be people uncomfortable with it: I’M UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT! I don’t like this particular element of my story! But do I think it was necessary? YES. Because with the conflict triggered by BOTH Azula and Sokka’s mistakes during the earliest arcs of the story, their characters DEVELOP. They GROW. They CHANGE. Without such development, there’s NO WAY the story would be where it is now. And maybe you’d be fine with that, but I sure as fuck am not. Gladiator isn’t exempt of flaws, of course it’s not, and I have no delusions of the opposite, but what you’re so obsessed with isn’t necessarily a flaw, it’s merely something you personally disliked and that you can’t seem to get over!

Which... begs the question. It really does.

WHY ARE YOU READING A STORY THAT MAKES YOU SO UNCOMFORTABLE?

I thought making Sokka work for Azula’s forgiveness to such humiliating extent (she literally walks over him at one point? He keeps shrinking and wincing and being completely mild and meek around her because he’s that sorry for what he did? He virtually STARVES himself in the forest so Azula can eat because she’s the one that matters, not himself?) would somehow make people like you, and as far as I know, many others, realize that Sokka was genuinely sorry. That Sokka had finally understood where he’d gone wrong, and that he would never misunderstand Azula’s feelings and intentions that way again.

Clearly, I was the one who was wrong. Because yep, it’s not just you, there’s a ton of people out there who can’t seem to get over what Sokka did in those chapters, or what he did in Hui Yi. And you know, I really think it’s unfair? Both on the characters, and on me as the writer? Because it’s not like I swept things under a rug, like in that link I gave you up there: I put Sokka through the wringer constantly, in fact, to the point where I even have thought it was too much! And beyond that... Sokka meant to stay by Azula’s side as her gladiator and nothing more, at first. Once they finally talk things through, that’s what they’re determined to be: there’s still lingering feelings, but their plan is to NOT act on them. And yes, it’s true, Sokka has one slip-up when Azula helps him cope with his feelings in chapter 50! But that’s what it’s framed as: a slip-up. He was impulsive, unable to hold back the emotions that led him to kiss her, and she kisses him back until they both realized this WASN’T supposed to happen between them ever again. Then, Sokka looks after Azula while she’s sick, and all his protective instincts are triggered... to the point where he realizes he outright LOVES Azula.

And even then, Sokka doesn’t act on his feelings again until Ember Island, point at which he only acts on them to show Azula she is NOT the monster she thinks she is. He does it FOR HER. He outright refrains from taking their exchanges as far as he deeply wanted them to go, because this is NOT ABOUT HIM. He wanted to make sure Azula would feel better, that she would understand she’s only human, and that her worst sides don’t make her any less human than anyone else.

My point is: I didn’t make Sokka work as hard as he did because he thought he’d get it on with Azula if he earned her forgiveness. I didn’t make Sokka fall in love with Azula while thinking only of himself, his feelings, his needs, above hers: IT’S THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF THAT. This guy is so in love with her he forgets himself with her, he’d die for her, hell, he’d even KILL for her, when one of Sokka’s biggest traumas EVER is about having to kill people. He doesn’t want to do that EVER AGAIN. And yet, if it’s for Azula’s sake, he will sacrifice his soul as many times as he must to keep her safe.

But the biggest thing I have to stress here? Sokka would have been willing to do every single one of those things for her even if Azula hadn’t wanted anything romantic to happen between them ever again.

If Azula had rejected him, kept him at bay, and the story had turned into an unbearable pining soap opera forevermore, Sokka would STILL do everything he has done for Azula. He wouldn’t expect her to love him back. He wouldn’t make demads of her in those regards. He would only love her as he does, because that’s what love is for this man. That’s what I developed him for. And if you don’t care to see it, Anon, that’s 100% on you, because I KNOW that’s what is there. You can’t simply take two instances of Sokka saying two stupid things and annul 188 chapters of Sokka developing into a man who would outright choose Azula OVER HIS OWN FAMILY. If you can’t understand the magnitude of this decision, how much it means for Sokka, SOKKA, to choose someone above his family? Above his people? Then you’ve got a real serious problem with grasping Sokka’s character. A very, very serious one. Probably since canon.

So... to finish off this particular subject: IT’S IMPORTANT FOR ME BECAUSE I WANT MY CHARACTERS TO GROW, CHANGE AND DEVELOP. AND THAT’S WHY I TOOK MY BETA UP ON THAT SUGGESTION AS I DID. I DON’T WANT MY CHARACTERS TO BE PERFECT RIGHT OFF THE BAT BECAUSE IT’S WRONG, IT’S BORING, IT’S NOT EVEN IC. IT MAKES NO SENSE TO ME, AS A WRITER, TO WRITE ABOUT CHARACTERS WHO CAN DO NO WRONG AND WHO NEVER HAVE TO CHANGE THEIR WAYS. BOTH AZULA AND SOKKA HAVE HAD TO GROW A TON THROUGHOUT GLADIATOR, AND IF YOU CAN’T SEE SOKKA’S GROWTH FOR YOURSELF, I’M PRETTY DAMN SURE IT’S BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE IT.

Sooo sick of people stories ALWAYS let men fuck be the lucky one and get the perfect woman who gives herself COMPLETELY to him. Then man says „its in the past I love you only" wtf? Sleep with others use it on Azula his 9th on the list. I respect you for being so strong and writing this as a girl. I get the crisis, so tired. Kudos Azula for letting herself in his arms so comfortably. I REALLY wish I could do this too. At least Suki and Song are lucky. Sorry for venting I'm just broken and stupid

I have no idea if this is you too. Maybe it is. But if not, I’m quoting it too, because why the fuck not. Why the fuck not.

I suppose I can at least commend this one for knowing Azula is the 9th rather than the 12th, huh? At least they read that much right.

To this Anon: please, stop venting about this to the writer who apparently disappointed you that badly for making a decision that is consistent with the situation the characters are in.

Frankly, I’m absolutely grossed out by the people who seem to think Azula, Princess Azula unto whom I’ve forced horrible purity societal pressures that ARE UNFAIR AND MAKE NO SENSE, AND SHE CONSTANTLY SAYS SO THROUGH THE STORY, should have had as many experiences as Sokka so that “they’re even”. The bloody audacity to look at what Sokka went through in Hui Yi and think “WELL BUT IT’S SEX SO AZULA SHOULD HAVE LOTS OF GUYS TOO!” completely BAFFLES me.

Literally, Azula’s ONLY experience before Sokka, AKA, CHAN, is a thousand times healthier and more genuine than ANYTHING Sokka ever went through. And nobody is fucking throwing a fit about that.

Why do I say this? :D

NOBODY WAS FORCING AZULA TO KISS CHAN. NOT IN CANON. NOT IN GLADIATOR

AZULA LIKED CHAN AND DELIBERATELY CHOSE TO GO FOR HIM BECAUSE SHE FELT LIKE IT. NO ONE WAS MAKING THIS CHOICE FOR HER.

AZULA WASN’T PRETENDING CHAN WAS SOMEONE ELSE WHILE SHE KISSED HIM. SHE WAS PERFECTLY FULFILLED BY KISSING A GUY FOR THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE THAT’S LITERALLY WHAT SHE WAS LOOKING FOR.

Meanwhile: Sokka is FORCED to be with the women in Hui Yi. Someone is going to outright either hurt or kill them if he doesn’t do it.

Meanwhile: Sokka didn’t necessarily like any of the women he was with, not the Hui Yi ones, not June. June merely wants mindless fucking, Sokka tells her from the start he doesn’t think it will work at all: IT DOESN’T. It’s JUNE being forward. At worst, Sokka can be blamed for not putting a harsh stop to June before anything happened. But he wasn’t even the one with the initiative: JUNE WAS. In Hui Yi, goes without saying, he didn’t get to choose, they basically would just go to him and he’d do what he had to do. The fucking end.

Meanwhile: Sokka was dead-like with June up until he lets himself imagine she’s Azula, the only way for him to actually go forward with what’s going on. Afterwards, HE’S APPALLED WITH HIMSELF. HE’S MISERABLE. HE’S UNHAPPY.

Azula had the normal, nice, socially acceptable teenage experience of having a brief crush on a guy and trying to see if something would come from it: SOKKA HAS BEEN A SLAVE EVER SINCE CHAPTER 2. Their social positions are MILES apart. And, as free as Sokka is to fuck whoever he wants: HE DOESN’T CHOOSE, DELIBERATELY, TO DO SO. He only does it in Hui Yi and with June, and after realizing with June that this just won’t work because he won’t get Azula off his mind, HE DOESN’T SLEEP WITH ANYONE ELSE UNTIL HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH AZULA BEGINS.

You’re basically pretending that a slave, in the lowest of levels in society, lives his life freely without restraint, just as a girl at the top of the world can. They both have very specific problems: Azula is forced NOT to be with anyone until marriage, whether she wants someone or not, whereas Sokka ends up getting sex FORCED ON HIM. Completely, radically opposite sides of a spectrum that I’ve done my damnedest to build up believably and understandably. But all this just goes over your head, right? You’d much rather ignore and annul my entire fucking worldbuilding, just because it tickles you poorly that the guy in this story has more experience in sex than the girl. You’re throwing major themes in Gladiator out the window (Azula outright fighting to demand actual equality instead of the subtle, constant, undermining sexism the Fire Nation is permeated with), because it makes you personally uncomfortable for a girl to be a virgin and a guy not to be (despite, in this day and age, there’s A LOT of content in the world where characters involved are either perfectly virginal or equally promiscuous, and you could be enjoying that instead of reading Gladiator).

Newsflash: you’re just as bad as the people who demand virginity and purity from women if you demand it from men.

Nobody is LESS or MORE of a person because of how many people they sleep with. NOBODY. This shouldn’t even have to be said. I can’t even believe that it NEEDS to be, but I’m saying it anyways. It’s absolutely STUPID to me that there’s readers out here that weigh everything in regards of how many people someone has been with. What sort of backwards mentality is this?

By far, Gladiator-wise, NO ONE has slept with as many people as Ty Lee has.

NO ONE.

Where’s the goddamn shitfest at Ty Lee for this? Haru had a few experiences before being with her, sure! But they were NOTHING compared to the amount Ty Lee had. Ty Lee did whatever the hell she wanted since her teenage years, with whoever she wanted, and she got away with it until she was caught. Then, Azula stepped in to help her avoid total social annihilation! :’D why?

BECAUSE IT SHOULDN’T MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE TY LEE HAS BEEN WITH. BECAUSE AZULA KNOWS TY LEE’S WORTH AS A HUMAN BEING HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOW “PURE” SHE MAY BE BEFORE MARRIAGE.

JUST AS AZULA’S OWN WORTH IS FAR AND BEYOND AND ABOVE THAT SHIT :’)

And god, it’s just so ridiculous! Soooo ridiculous! That I’m out here, writing a huge story that’s meant to feature, eventually, the big fallout resulting of the discovery of Azula’s long-gone purity, a fallout that Azula will be fighting against with all her might, trying to defend her right to live her life, to love whoever she wants, to defend her worth and value as a person and resist the traditionalistic oppressive tyranny of her own FATHER...!

And you’re out here, fucking shitting yourself in rage, because Sokka has had more sexual partners and experiences than Azula.

It’s fascinating for the whole POINT of the story to soar so far over your head that you just can’t even see it anymore. For you to be so hung up on stuff Sokka did between chapters 2-3 and in chapter 28, AND NOTHING MORE, as if THAT is what determines Sokka’s worth as a human being and as Azula’s partner. And damn, try as I might, I can’t make someone learn better if they’re stuck with this mentality because they truly believe that if you’ve had more partners you’re somehow worse than by having less. I can’t. It’s up to you people to get over this attitude, because I can’t do more to teach you human nuance and complexity than I already have. I’m too tired to try anymore.

And of course, writers shouldn’t have to defend their work as I’m defending mine now. I should probably just lie down and take the criticism I’m tossed without complaint, shouldn’t I? I mean, haha, I also got this Anon, so very considerately, saying:

Hello I am that anon who asked you the Sokka sleeping with someone question. I think you shouldn't stress or get angry and hurt when you get question about this matter. It is a big and questiniongly part of your story. No one can judge your talent or you but people can ask questions about this or can't they? Its just that it was not neccessary for some readers seems like.

Which, I think, is probably the first person all over again.

I SHOULDN’T get stressed or angry or hurt? Oh, wow. So, on top of everything, I can’t even have feelings. I’m supposed to be a fucking doormat :’) beautiful. I love it.

Have you taken notice of how many asks I’ve already quoted in this answer? That’s not even half of what I’ve had in my inbox pertaining this subject, whether from you or someone else. Back when the story was starting? I got asks about this VERY OFTEN, by someone who eventually came back and apologized (and boy, do I hope that none of the asks I’ve quoted were sent by that person, I seriously hope they didn’t backtrack on their apparent understanding of what I was doing with the story), and I don’t even know how many others too. It was people, just like you, who would read over my answers and just cherrypick the story trying to find any excuses to villify Sokka and paint him as undeserving and ungrateful and I don’t even know what else regarding Azula and their bond. Whether because he slept with a “ton” of people or because he made her cry or because of whatever reason you want to choose.

... When Azula can be fucking held responsible for literally making Sokka suicidal.

Fucking grapple with that for a sec, can you? :’) Imagine what it’s like falling in love with someone who once hurt you so badly you thought you wanted your life to be over. Do tell me how easily you’d get over your reservations, LONG before this person even SAYS SHE’S SORRY. BECAUSE. HAHA. AZULA DIDN’T EVEN APOLOGIZE FOR IT FOR FIFTY-FIVE CHAPTERS. JUST AN FYI. AND NONE OF YOU. NOOOONE OF YOU. GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THAT DETAIL. IT’D BE HILARIOUS IF IT WEREN’T SO OUTRAGEOUS.

Anyways. Getting back on track: people HAVE asked questions about this. Constantly. Consistently. Without restraint, ever since I first wrote it. Without bloody bothering to go through my blog first and find out if maaaaybe I’ve already addressed their concerns. And the worst part? I’ve actually had many askers, countless anons, lots of people talking to me about many things. Yes, I’ve had a million arguments on Tumblr, and not everything ended well.

But pal. Pal. Guess what’s the only subject that KEEPS ON COMING RIGHT BACK, NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I DEAL WITH IT, AND IT’S ALWAYS, ALWAYS, WITH THE SAME SPECIFIC “SOKKA IS THE WORST” FOCUS???? :’)

Think about something you did seven years ago. Be it something you were proud of, or something you’re sad about, or just something that you really don’t think much of anymore, because you’ve moved on from that since ages ago.

And then imagine spending seven years. Receiving questions. Constantly. Whether rude or not. Whether thoughtful or not (usually the latter, tbh). Whether necessary or not. Whether already answered or not. About that very thing you’ve been over. That very specific thing from SEVEN YEARS AGO.

I’m tired, Anon, of dealing with this specific subject, because everyone who has come to me with this BS has been a pain in the ass: THEY KEEP COMING BACK. YOU’RE NOT THE FIRST ONE WHO DOES. IT’S INCREDIBLE. I’ve answered a thousand asks, and I do get follow-up questions sometimes, but NEVER as many or as frequently as THIS! And the part that I just can’t believe is that there’s people who write stuff that are thousands of times more complicated than what I did here (in terms of giving the characters even MORE love interests, like, genuine love triangles and actual love involved rather than a mere quick thing), and I don’t see anyone giving them a single hint of grief for that. Not even a smidge, not even if they leave the subject up in the air or unresolved later on. I’ve read stories that feature pairings I’m absolutely uncomfortable with, actual pairings that have a longer lasting relationship in the story than the pairing I was reading for! There’s literally a story in another fandom where the main relationship lasts, what, 6 months? Maybe? And then they break up. And then the guy goes on to have a fuckbuddy for YEARS. Meaning, the relationship with the fuckbuddy is longer and more stable than the ship the story is actually marked for.

And I didn’t give the writer even the SLIGHTEST grief for it.

Why the hell do you (and everyone else who has been so hung up about this subject) feel the need, or the entitlement, to determine that I need to put up with these questions? That I somehow earned them and need to answer them every time? Because, heh, I outright stopped answering for a long time because I didn’t want to. Because I was TIRED. Because I hoped, fruitlessly, that if I didn’t give you guys the attention you were so desperate for, you’d eventually get bored or realize that I DON’T CARE FOR THIS SUBJECT ANYMORE. I AM OVER IT. I HAVE BEEN OVER IT FOR AGES.

But SOMEHOW, getting me to the point where I’d be stressed, upset, outraged and annoyed was absolutely worth it for you guys. Seriously, what the hell do you think I am? A big monolith that just spews words and has zero emotions whatsoever? I’ve given SEVEN YEARS of my life to this story. Have you ever done this for ANYTHING in your life? Have you ever devoted yourself to a project to this extent? No? Then you don’t get to dictate whether I should be annoyed, upset, angry, irritated or whatever the fuck I feel when I get asks as persistent, thoughtless and devoid of proper reflection as the ones I CONSTANTLY get over 28 and everything related to Sokka’s past with named and nameless women alike.

And hey, just so you know, someone recently said they thought it wasn’t necessary for Whaletail Island’s arc to end as it did. That there shouldn’t be a 1-year interval until Sokka can meet his family, his FATHER, again. That Katara, Aang, Zuko and Kino totally should have stayed outside the South Pole and helped fight against Ozai merely because the Gaang was FINALLY together!!!

... Conveniently forgetting the ENTIRE purpose for the South Pole group’s trip to Whaletail Island was for them to find food with which they could help a starving, dying village.

So excuse me if some people “questioning” my story doesn’t make me question my choices the way you guys apparently expect me to. Because at this point, the “questioning” I’m receiving is honestly so thoughtless, so poorly conceived, just done for YOUR SUBJECTIVE CONVENIENCE, without taking the full picture into account, even in situations like this one, where it’s bloody obvious Zuko won’t go fight the Fire Nation when his wife and child could be the next ones to bite the dust and that’s the whole reason he even left??? I’m not even talking about the bigger picture that I get to see as a writer, I mean the bigger picture in regards of character feelings and motivations... you people do see that. You have it, explained outright, perhaps too explained! Hell, if my literature teachers read Gladiator they’d likely cringe at how often I SPELL EVERYTHING OUT instead of leaving a few things for the reader to fill the gaps! Oh, but naaaaah, I have to come here, spend HOURS of my day answering asks about why Sokka got to sleep with people when Azula didn’t, and why do I think he’s loyal to her if he did that before he was committed to Azula, and if he’s going to sleep with more people because of COURSE, if he was with anyone else before her it means he will be again in the future...!

When I could be using all this time to actually work on stuff that I DO want to work on. Namely, building up the story further. With some very dark, serious, difficult developments that I’m trying to be in the right place to write.

And asks like these? They sure as fuck don’t help. Not only do they distract me, they have NOTHING to do with what I’m working on right now. I’ve considered the subject of Sokka’s past experiences as closed and DONE since chapter 112, and I don’t need you, or anyone else, to come to me and beg for more explanations than the pretty damn extensive ones you already got in a PRETTY DAMN EXTENSIVE STORY.

If you still read Gladiator at this point. If you reach chapter 187 and see a Sokka who hugs Azula, twirls her in midair, damn near crying of bliss because she said she loved him in public, in front of their siblings, a Sokka who is choosing to stay with her, without a shred of a doubt, with his heart COMPLETELY set on HER, instead of going back to a family who used to be THE ONLY THING he cared about in life, and you somehow conclude “this guy would totally cheat on Azula if he had the chance”... then I’m sorry but I HAVE every right to be angry. I have every right to be completely beside myself as I am.

Because you’re basically saying that I spent SEVEN YEARS developing this character, this relationship, this story, and it went to waste. Because you refuse to believe, for personal reasons, that Sokka is in any way deserving of his bond with Azula. Because somehow you think this is CONTRADICTORY, when merely looking at things with a slightly more open mind, reveals that this isn’t contradiction: IT’S NUANCE. It’s COMPLEXITY. It’s the fact that a character can change their mind about certain things, they can deplore certain mistakes they made, they can regret their actions in retrospect, and my characters? They sure do that. All the bloody time. Azula does it constantly, and for good reason. But it just goes right over your head, and it’s because you want it to. I refuse to believe you can’t understand what I’ve explained before, and what I’m explaining now: you don’t want to understand it, which is different. You want to condemn Sokka, and you want to feel validated in your discomfort about one specific, long-resolved plot point of the story, demanding for explanations of why it was necessary when you really don’t care for the explanations: you just wish it hadn’t happened at all.

And great! You can wish that all you like! Why the hell not? But you don’t get to pelt me day after day with criticism that falls apart easier than a card castle as soon as I take a look at what I wrote in the story, only to then pick ANOTHER quote, OUT OF CONTEXT, to once again present your case of why this is just wrong and bad and not written the way you want it to be.

I’ve received legitimate, valid criticism of many aspects of Gladiator. I always ended up feeling pretty bad after, but the valid ones? I realized, even if it hurt, that they were true. That some of that made sense. That, if I got to write this story all over again, I probably should fix those details and not get overwhelmed by my excitement to get to the meat of the story, which is why some developments of the introduction arc are so rushed compared to everything else. It was my inexperience, my mistake. I’ve made mistakes later on too, and I’ve taken note of them as well, despite I’m doing my best to incorporate them into the story as seamlessly as possible so that they even tie in with canon fairly well. In short, I don’t believe Gladiator is perfect, and sometimes when people tell me as much? I know they’re right. I take what I can from that, and learn from it, if possible.

But this? The criticism I’ve received for 28, and for Sokka’s past, is 100% subjective, CONSTANTLY. I’ve never read any that genuinely makes me go “oh well that’s a good point, maybe it’s OOC or maybe I could’ve done it differently to the exact same results without the same elements”. It’s always, to varying degrees, “I hate that you’re writing for one specific ship but allowed one member of the ship to have experiences with other people before he really got together with his one true love and I’m going to pester you about it until I finally get bored of making you rant and ramble for hours to no avail because I won’t listen to anything you say”.

So, yes. I feel justified in lashing right back at you for the backlash. Because this isn’t just you, it’s a lot of people, like you said! And you’re ALL free to hate what happened, I’ve never said you have to like it and I never will. But if you’re going to criticize? You’re open for criticism too. Fact is, if you wanted to actually talk about this properly? You’d get off anon and we’d have (I hope) a decent conversation via messaging about ALL that bothers you about this story. I’d even be a thousand times more civil than I have been so far! And why would I act so differently? Because you’re an anon. Because you’re HIDING. And from the shadows, you toss all this criticism at me and then whine because I don’t like it. Well, own up to your own shit too, Anon. If you wanted a real debate, if you had the ARGUMENTS for a real debate, we could have one just fine. But you don’t. And if you get the privilege of anonymity, I get the privilege of speaking my mind with zero regard of your feelings, because that’s basically how you, and all the anons I’ve quoted (whether they’re you or anyone else) have behaved as so far.

Yes, I write, and I post what I write online, which leaves the gateway open for criticism for sure.

It doesn’t give you the right to be this persistent of an asshole to the point of saying I have no right to be annoyed by your questions. You don’t have the slightest idea of how much work I’ve put into Gladiator for the past seven years. You don’t have the slightest grasp of character development if you don’t understand THAT is what’s been happening with Sokka all along. And you don’t get to decide how I feel about your asks, or anyone else’s.

You can send another ask about ANYTHING regarding this subject, be it my inability to handle “criticism”, or chapter 28, or chapters 111-112 and their respective revelations about Sokka’s past, or your presumed belief that Sokka will be with a thousand women despite he’s completely committed to Azula by now... but this time I mean it: YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANOTHER ANSWER OUT OF ME. I’ve had it. This is the last straw. I’m done discussing this subject, and I’ll outright change my askbox’s message for you to remember that if you try to pull this again.

Now then. Can I finally go back to working on my story, or must I continue to invest HOURS of my day spelling out all the writing decisions I’ve made that you can’t make your peace with?

Please, Anon: get over it. If you can’t, stop reading. You’ll be happier that way. And so will I. I’m in no place, emotionally, for this kind of BS on my inbox all the damn time. Give me a goddamn break if you truly have any respect for what I do.

#anon #gladiator chapter 28 #gladiator chapter 112 #I've had enough #this fucking answer is so long #and I know it won't serve any purpose #I mean if you've read enough to reach chapter 112 and still can't SEE the shit I'm spelling out for you #obviously an ask isn't going to fix anything either #but maybe?#maybe you'll understand how done I am with this #if nothing else #enough is enough

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Ann’s Old Masterlist

UNUSED AS OF JULY 2021 - Current masterlist here

Rules for my page. PSA.

All works are original and legally my own. Do not repost. More works coming soon: each Saturday currently, schedule will change.

Please read the warnings at the top of every post: Items marked 18+ are mature/smut, and I don’t recommend you read if you are under eighteen, but it’s up to you to mediate your media consumption. The warnings you heed are entirely your responsibility.

Disclaimer: I do not know any of the people I write about, nor do I claim to, and I simply write about fictional figments of them. The fictional worlds I write within (the MCU, Harry Potter etc.) I do not own either, I do not own the characters or the settings, but merely write about a further fictional figment.

I currently only write Fem!reader. Works marked Ღ are the most popular. My inbox is open to requests but they may take a while to get a response.

Ann's TS 200 blurb event! (Mini Masterlist)

Regulus Black

Romeo, Juliet & Quidditch

Summary: One very eventful Quidditch final can do more than Regulus and his Juliet ever imagined; strengthening family ties, Y/N's mind, and Reg's feelings all at once.

Charlie Weasley

Secret. (18+)

Summary: You have a secret regarding the dragon taming Weasley. The only issue is that he sees you as the child you were a few years ago. When you become legal, he seems to seek you out wherever you are. Maybe he has a secret too.

Couple Blurbs

Lily & James Potter - First Kiss.

Summary: When Lily sees a new side of James, she thinks maybe falling for him isn’t so bad after all.

Albus & Scorpius - Before You Go.

Summary: At the 5th year prom, Albus and Scorpius find they can’t hold back their feelings anymore. Just one dance, before you go

Bill & Fleur - Our Spot.

Summary: After the final task, Fleur finds herself in despair, and goes to the only spot she can think of to unwind, not expecting to be approached by a handsome stranger.

Dean & Seamus - At Last.

Summary: Years of tiptoeing around one another and hidden feelings come to a head when Seamus finds a stack of art beneath Dean's bed. At last, something might happen.

Doctor Stephen Strange

ᲦBaby Blues & Tattoos (18+)

Summary: After a tiring mission, the last thing you want to do is have to crash at a hotel, especially with the cockiest man alive. Will things change with the fact there's only one bed on such a sleepless night?

Loki Laufeyson

ᲦDress.

Summary: This dance between you and Loki has been going on for far too long. The night of the palace ball gives you the chance to make your next move, wearing the dress you bought only for him to take it off.

Peter Parker, Spider-Man

Everything Happens for a Reason.

Summary: Stark!Reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason.

Steve Rogers, Captain America

Promise? (18+)

Summary: Being an apprentice at the Avengers Tower is never easy, especially not when you make a promise to your favourite person there and fail to keep it, through no fault of your own. In a matter of seconds, your world comes crumbling around, but Steve seems to come around in order to pick up the pieces.

Clint Barton, Hawkeye

Rough. (18+)

Summary: After the snap, you never think you’ll see Clint again. Hanging around the tower alone day in and day out becomes tiring, especially when your hormones are in overdrive and you can’t stop thinking about the one avenger you haven’t yet had in bed, until he walks through the door more attractive than ever. (Seriously read the warnings for this, it’s very kinky).

Tom Hiddleston

Ღ BAFTAs.

Summary: Tom thieves your panties after you rile him up the night of the BAFTAs, and he doesn't anticipate the consequences of keeping underwear in his pocket on the red carpet. (Definitely mature with heavy implications, but no explicit smut)

Ღ Stripped Sunday

Summary: Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

NSFW Alphabet. (18+)

Summary: An incredibly explicit NSFW alphabet about Tom Hiddleston, detailing his deepest fantasies and darkest truths; or how I imagine them to be, at least.

Tom Holland

Just Friends?

Summary: You and Tom have been best friends for a long time, and inseparable for just as long. The boys welcome you as one of their own, and you’re basically a part of the family. That’s your main issue, because when you begin to harbour feelings for your best friend, you’re not sure if he feels the same.

Harrison Osterfield

Quarantine. (18+)

Summary: Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

A Happy Day (& A Puppy)

Summary: Today is the day you and Haz get a puppy. It's the next big step in your relationship, and despite your anxieties, you know it's a happy day.

Sebastian Stam

The Ballet Teacher.

Summary: Ballet teacher!reader. Sebastian's daughter attends a very prestigious ballet school, but when she's late out one day, the last thing he expects to happen is to meet her wonderful new teacher, who has him head over heels.

Timothée Chalamet

Ღ Concerto. (18+)

Summary: At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

Fair Game.

Summary: Your boyfriend, Tim, has hurt you for the last time. You didn’t realise you could ever feel this broken, especially because of someone you once loved so much, but maybe, just maybe, it’s for the best.

Tom Felton

Risk.

Summary: After your break up, one that pained you to the bone, you try to escape and you find yourself taking that one risk you always thought you should, travelling. A simple day out, and the one person you don’t want to see is the one person who can help you with your car troubles. Could he help with your heart troubles too, over a reminiscent dinner perhaps?

Baby on the Brain.

Summary: Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Elizabeth Debicki

Gorgeous.

Summary: Elizabeth is gorgeous, just look at her, the world can see it. A drunken night leads to some tipsy confessions, but does Elizabeth feel the same?

Christmas Morning. (18+)

Summary: Christmas morning in a hidden wintry lodge is everything you could’ve dreamed of. Then again, it’d be perfect even without the setting and the heating, because all you want for Christmas is Elizabeth, and that she gives you. Wholly.

Reunion Revenge. (18+)

Summary: At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

Hailee Steinfeld

Live.

Summary: The first night of Hailee's tour, you're a guest singer... and her girlfriend. Everything will go to plan, surely, even when she looks that good and sings that well...

Sherlock Holmes

Ღ Kiss Me, Mr Detective. (18+)

Summary: After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night…

Chuck Bass

Safe.

Summary: A small British village version of Constance & St Jude’s. The aftermath of your drive home from Saturday’s house party becomes haunting and brings out a new side in you. Not that you’re complaining, especially not when you have the well-versed Chuck Bass as your friend and safety.

(Send in any requests to my inbox.)

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zargsnake · 3 years

Photo

Leyr Burnridge and the Undead Star

Word Count: 3582

This is a story within a story. The framing device involves Star Wars characters, but if you don’t like Star Wars you can skip those parts and just read the main story. The framing device is indented.

* * *

"They were older than our numbers can count, but not older than theirs could. A long time ago, they were just like us: petty, mortal, recycled, thinking from A to B, feeling from B to A, bound to an odd number of senses, and detached from answers to the biggest questions. They had found those answers -- some they figured out themselves, and some they had help from others...others who they had to leave behind. But that was a long time ago. Longer than we could count, but not longer than they could.

They knew everything, saw everything, held everything, controlled everything. They wanted nothing, guessed nothing, believed nothing, tried nothing. They boxed infinity. And for one of them, it was unbearable.”

* * *

Jocasta Nu feels old herself when she looks at the name at the top of the "Year-16 [Adapted] Creative Writing Assignment." Serran's student's student's student, young Skywalker. With his light hair and quiet manner, the young man is a far reach from his great-grandteacher, that outspoken charmer who had bewitched the entire Temple. Back when the Ossus excavation was still well-funded, when the Students for Progress still held meetings with representatives from all levels of the planet, when the Jedi Exploration Corps had a full slate of planned missions -- back when things were good here, really good, because the future seemed so good, because people wanted it to be good -- Serran more than anyone.

She wishes he were still here in the Temple, with that desire and that action, because things are sadder now. The old projects were too ambitious, and people gave up. It turned out the sins of the Outer Rim were worse than anyone had thought. Now even the biggest thinkers assume controlling them is impossible. Determined capitalists can just hold important Mid Rim planets hostage now; people seem to just accept that. And what can you say against the Chancellor? It is seven years into his term, and though people are more miserable than ever, Jocasta thinks his detractors have become just as unreasonable and small-minded as his supporters. And worst of all, of course, the Sith are back. Just when the Mandalorians seemed quelled for good -- the Sith are back, lurking out there in the shadows somewhere. It is all too much. So people just don't care anymore. They just don't believe in anything.

But she knows that even if Serran were here, even if he could keep his legacy intact, so that he was not a stranger to his own direct line -- he wouldn't. Because he doesn't believe in anything anymore either. He told her so, before he left, but she knew before he told her.

* * *

“Leyr Burnridge sat on her windowsill, looking out at the stars, wishing one of them would fall and die. She had an idea that the stars -- for all science says about gases and gravity -- were actually another type of people, a powerful and mysterious alien people -- and if one of them died and you saw it, then they would survive and become your slave forever. She couldn't tell you where she'd gotten this idea -- from a story, maybe, or a dream, or just a wish she'd come up with herself.

If she had an almighty starperson, the first thing she would ask for would be a ship. She did not like to stay in one place. The next thing she would want would be clothes -- she hated to look just one way. She wanted to be anywhere, looking like anything -- fitting in as well or as poorly as she pleased. If she wanted to meet the queen, the snooty courtiers would see her in her finery and let her straight in. If she wanted to plunge into a black hole, she would simply wear a strong enough spacesuit.

Leyr imagined more scenarios like that. She thought it was a very good idea. But she did not break her concentration on the stars. They were as still as her mind was wild, until -- a strike -- a fall. She saw it and smiled.

And then she felt a hand on her shoulder."

* * *

Jocasta remembers the Year-16 CWAs she and Serran wrote. As with all the important or interesting projects of that time, they did them together. The assignment asks Jedi students to reach out through the Force, through all of space and time, and then try to imagine something that is perfectly and utterly impossible. Something that never has happened and never will, not even in the most obscure corners of the galaxy. The very furthest thing from reality -- to imagine that, to the best of their ability.

It is a strange assignment, but a beloved one, and quite traditional. She had asked her master, a shrewd Echani named Menoc Thebe, what the purpose of the assignment was. They told her that the assignment teaches Jedi to separate fact from fiction -- an exercise of surprising importance to their way of life. After all, between prophecies, visions, and universal compassion for every form of life from microscopic organisms to space-faring superbeasts, a Jedi's sense of reality must be bigger and more flexible than that of an ordinary person. Master Menoc had clarified that this heightened awareness has been known, historically, to take a toll on the mental well-being of Jedi knights.

She remembers recounting this exchange to Serran, and his response; he had laughed and said, "The things they do to keep us from going mad."

* * *

"Leyr looked over her shoulder, expecting to see her roommate, but instead she saw a strange man. He was tall, with long silver hair and a young, sad face. His eyes were dark against his shimmering skin, and they seemed more real than the rest of him. Tiny bits and pieces of him disappeared or flickered around, and he faded away altogether half a foot before he reached the floor. Despite all this, he was quite fashionably dressed. Like a prince. Or a devil.

Leyr was not easily scared, and though he must have meant to startle her, she did not let it show. She pushed his hand off her shoulder and shifted her position on the windowsill to face him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Your star," he replied, "The one you saw die... You have me now."

His voice was a chorus of sounds -- different winds blowing through different tubes, none of them quite like a throat -- more like flutes and low whistles -- and soft percussion, like rain, or static.

"Do -- do you have a name?"

"... No... I am your undead star."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Yes," he said, after a pause.

"Prove it."

"Look outside. Look down this time."

Leyr didn't like to take her eyes off the alien, but she could not resist. Outside, on top of her roommate's garden, was a sleek and beautiful spaceship -- almost exactly like the one she had been admiring in last week's catalogue, but with the improvements she had imagined in her head.

"You'll find the walk-in closet full, to your liking," he said.

She looked back at him, unable to hide her awe.

"Infinitely full, in fact."

* * *

Jocasta finds great joy in reading the short stories. Over her many years as leader of the Year-16 CWA Committee, she has read thousands of them. While she does not have as much experience with the creative writing abilities of non-Jedi children, she can't imagine that they could possibly compare. Jedi reach out to the rest of the universe every day; their imaginations are, by necessity, extremely advanced. At the annual ceremony in which Jocasta explains the assignment, she always says, "Reach out into the Force, as far as you can. And then look even further, to the preposterous beyond."

She is still, even now, proud of the story she wrote herself. It was about a book which had no writer nor publisher; it simply appeared one day, on the desk of an unassuming clerk. The clerk, curious, opened it up and saw his own name there. He hesitated but kept going, and read his fictional self gamble on a fathier race and win. He looked up the next race on Canto Bight's channel, and saw every animal's name, just as it was in the book. He gambled and won, just as he was told.

He used the book as a guide to make the perfect life, and it even told him how to win the love of the man of his dreams. When they were married, he finally told his husband his secret. But when his husband read the book himself, his fictional self became sick and died. This fiction came to pass in reality, too: the young man did not last a week.

Jocasta thought it was a rather scary story, and quite clever, because it was about a story. And it was certainly impossible. Books cannot come from nowhere -- neither can fortune, nor harm. In reality, everything has a source. And it is foolish to put too much trust in a source that you do not understand.

* * *

"For Leyr it was a year; for the undead star, it was barely a moment. He remembered every detail, far better than she did. He even felt it all, which he had not expected. He felt the cold of space and the brilliant sparks of her feelings -- anger, joy, drunkenness, sadness, longing. He could smell the filth of her garbage as he vanished it from existence; he could taste her lips when she kissed him. He could even burn his hand on the ship's stove or exhaust port, though it healed instantaneously. He still felt it. He could almost care.

Anything Leyr could imagine came true, even before she could finish thinking it. Her undead star knew her perfectly, better than anyone ever had, even her own family. Her silliest dreams, her darkest thoughts, her solemnest ideas.

She went around and around on accepting his gifts. Of course, it wasn't fair. She was not the worst-off person; she did not need so much help. And she was not the best person, either -- she didn't deserve it. Not like other people did, surely. But he would always say that she was the one who saw him die, and so he belonged to her.

She would ask what he wanted in return, and his answers would change, and she realized that he was only ever saying what she wanted to hear. He would say "nothing;" but when she grew uneasy with that, he would say "your company;" then after she told him she loved him, he would say "your love." Over time, she realized he didn't mean that. That realization hurt worse than anything ever had. And so she stopped asking him, but she did not stop loving him.

He felt like a breathing lightning storm, always flickering, every part of him a different heartbeat. He weighed as much or as little as she remembered he did. He arranged for her any lover she could think of -- even imaginary ones. But after a while, she stopped caring for others. All she wanted was him.

She felt they were like an electrical circuit. He was the current, and she was the ground. She realized, slowly -- slowly for her -- that he was nothing more than voltages. He had no will of his own, no direction. But she would still absorb the shocks -- if no one else was going to!"

* * *

Jocasta remembers Serran's story, too. He wrote about utopia. In his perfect world, there were no rules; people did not need them. People were good all on their own. It was a world of constant change, without any loyalties at all. It was a world of absolute freedom.

The story was flimsy, something about a family escaping tyranny in their rickety ship only to crash land on his perfect world. Most of the text was the family getting shown around the planet in a grand, beautiful tour. It was inspiring. Even thinking of it now brings tears to Jocasta's eyes. The peace and happiness, the tenderness and trust.

But it will always break her heart to think that, when tasked to create something impossible, Serran created something happy.

* * *

"One day she brought it up again -- that he was lying about wanting her love. He said all the right things, but she was beginning to get too smart for that. So he kissed her and held her, and though she knew she should see through that, too -- she didn't, not as well.

They lay in silence in the night, deep into nowhere. She felt alone. He felt alone, too.

"There is something I want," her undead star said, avoiding her gaze.

"Oh, really?" replied Leyr, not believing.

"Sort of," he responded. "The truth is, my people do not want anything. We evolved past that long ago, before your people existed."

"Oh." She thought about that for a while. "Do you remember when that happened?"

"Yes."

"What do you remember?"

He thought for a few minutes -- not about his answer, but how to explain it to her.

"My creator. We used to have beginnings and ends, like you do. I remember the other being, the one who created me."

"So, like your mother."

"Not really."

They were silent again.

"Did she die before you evolved?" Leyr asked.

"No," he replied. "But after we evolved, we were not related to each other like that anymore... We were unrecognizable."

"That's rough," she said. "I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that," he said, and he meant it, though she didn't think he did. He had said too many lies in the past.

"So what do you 'want,' then? As much as you can want anything."

He was silent. She felt him breathing, louder than before. It sounded like distress. It sure seemed real. She held his hand, and the feeling calmed him. She prayed that it was real.

"Do you want to die?" she asked, sadly.

"No," he said. "I don't want to end myself... I want to begin something else."

He turned to look at her.

"I came to you because you, of all people, had so many wishes. I tried to give them to you."

"You have," she said, stroking his hair. "...But they all seem so trivial, now."

"Perhaps."

He held her face and kissed her again.

"Will you have a child with me?" he asked her.

Leyr had dark eyes, too, and the alien gazed into them. He knew every thought and feeling behind those eyes; he saw her secrets plainly, churning around in chaos at his strange, abrupt question.

He thought her eyes were beautiful. He wouldn't have thought that a year ago.

"Is that possible?" was the question she prioritized. A silly question, but necessary for her linear, agitated mind.

"Anything is possible," he answered, smiling. She played the endless game, guessing if his expression was real or not. This smile seemed different than any other -- perhaps a clue to its authenticity. Certainly this conversation was different than any other. He had never asked for anything before.

"What would our child be like? Like me, or like you?"

"Definitely like you…Partially like me."

"What do you mean? How much of a part?"

"I don't know," he said, after a pause.

"What do you mean, you don't know? You know everything."

"Not this. This is the one thing I don't know."

"How?"

"Because none of my people have done it before." He had never held her hand so tightly. "Because we decided to be through with beginnings and ends, risks, love, all of it. It is forbidden. And I'm the only one of us who can't stand it anymore."

"But what if something terrible happens?" She freed her hand from his grip and held him more gently. "What if such a baby can't make it? What if its life is miserable? What if your people find it and take it away, and make it unrecognizable, anyway?"

"Then, perhaps, I would want to die."

She cradled his head.

"...You have to tell me what would happen," he continued. "I do not know. And what I don't know, I don't know. I can't guess. Only you can guess."

She supposed that made sense, though it felt very unusual.

"Was this your plan all along?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, his breath warm on her skin. "Just as you wished for me, I wished for you."

Leyr gazed up at the stars through the spaceship's great window above their bed. What kind of a choice was this? He held every advantage. He could make the whole ship vanish in a blink. But she wasn't afraid of him. She never had been. She trusted him. She loved him. He was asking to move forward in their relationship -- it was the least alien thing he had ever done.

He could not imagine, but she could. She imagined their child, its every wish granted, its every moment perfect -- just as her life had been perfect this past year. Had it only been a year?

And the alternative? To go on like this, knowing what she knows now of his great misery -- though he wouldn't call it that. Now that she finally knows the truth -- she can't just ignore it. She can't just keep wishing and adventuring, chasing whims and fantasies forever. It's one thing to have an unfair advantage over everyone else in the world -- but to have one over the person she loves most?

"Yes, I'll have a child with you," she said, after this short mental exercise. "I love you."

It was the one of the last things she ever said to him. She woke up in a small apartment in a large city. The sparse, clean rooms had no trace of her lover or anyone else. The son she had shortly after did not look alien. He didn't behave especially strangely, either -- at least, not as strangely as his father.

For a creature who knew all the answers, the undead star had left Leyr with only questions. Perhaps these are the sorts of questions we need to ask, in order to evolve beyond mortality ourselves. Perhaps this is their way to guide us along, to bring us closer to themselves. Or perhaps they will only ever leave us behind.

Leyr Burnridge sat on her windowsill and looked at the stars, wishing one of them would fall and die -- though she knew now that that whole scenario was entirely made-up to seduce her. A godlike alien read her mind and took advantage of her silly idea, all for some great, elaborate ploy to burden her with his little parasite.

Why did he bother? She wished that was the question that kept her up at night. But it was not.

The only question she really cared about was this: Did he leave her, or did they take him away?

In her nightmares, they punished him. They demagnetized the fragile bonds holding the gossamer particles of his body together. They washed the clarity out of his eyes, and ground his soul into wires and glue. They killed him, or assimilated him into whatever horrible, unfathomable thing they are.

It would be simpler to say that she was angry, but that's not the kind of person she was. It would be good to say that she was hopeful, that she believed, that she waited -- and that is a little closer to the truth. But I can't say either of those things. She was afraid -- afraid for her lover and afraid for her son, afraid of impossible creatures who she couldn't explain.

That fear sunk deep under her skin. Deeper than they could feel, but not deeper than we can.

The son of Leyr Burnridge and the undead star could fear just as deeply as his mother could...and he could count for as long as his father could.

His father was lost and his mother was forsaken. But he was born to find the answers, and, this time, to leave no one behind."

* * *

Anakin wonders what to do with the second half of the story. He only sent in the first half, of course, ending at the electric circuit metaphor. It is a bit of an abrupt ending, and makes the story rather short, but he knew the old lady wouldn't mark it as incomplete since it was already getting way too inappropriate. That was a trick Aayla taught him to get away with sending in shorter projects: just make them kind of sexy. It works on most of the teachers here, though you have to be careful not to use it too much because they will tell your master.

He hadn't meant to keep writing, really, after that. He'd meant to keep it all in his head. But it just spilled out so easily and now he's got it, right here, on his stupid computer and Obi Wan -- or worse -- could access it anytime, because Padawan security locks are worthless.

Would that be so bad? ... Yeah. It would.

He wants to just delete it. The only problem is he likes it.

He downloads it onto a datarod, deletes the source document, throws the datarod under his bed and forgets about it until he gets knighted years later and has to thoroughly clean his room so he can move to a bigger one. When he rediscovers it then, at twenty, and remembers what it's about, and how it ends, he tells Artoo to blow it up. Artoo happily obeys.

#my story #my art #leyr burnridge and the undead star #anakin skywalker #jocasta nu #count dooku #star wars #scifi #tragedy

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