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#prompt about faith
spaceratprodigy · 5 months
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hmm injury for faith & max? :-)
@hibernationsuit — [ kinda spicy prompts ]
we were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on
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also thank you @darkfire1177 for helping me brainstorm :]
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mikoran · 9 months
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i feel like everyone in this fandom needs to like take a break from it and just. hang out in another fandom for a while. remind themselves of what typical fandom environments are like because this one acts a lot differently from how fandoms typically do
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bluewinnerangel · 1 year
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Faith In The Future: Parallels.
We Love Parallels. <3
So we keep seeing parallels between lines of FITF songs (I'm not gonna bring in any other songs for this, yes I know there are some very clear ones) right, as obvious as the same line reused in another song, but also songs sharing themes to the point some lines are saying the same thing, shared keywords or imagery, etc, and I wanted to attempt to list a bunch. This list is probably going to end up being longer than your attention span (and mine like this took some sittings so I recommend taking your time to digest them all I think it's worth it all this time) but I love it, I love the FITFverse. Obviously I couldn't tell you which of these he put in there on purpose and which of those are also meant to mean anything beyond that they all together create this wonderful body of work that is FITF but I just love looking at it like this, I love how one song can extend and amplify the meaning of another, I love seeing how you can take one thing and flip it on its back and show the another side to it, and how it all morphs and works together, and if somehow magically none of these are on purpose which I doubt then still, it's still showing what he focuses on in songwriting and in life and what he chooses to share with us so however you view this I think it's really fucking awesome.
I'm probably gonna miss a bunch, some might appeal to you, some meh, it's all subjective, that's the beauty of it, blablabla:
Do you see what I see? (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 Do you see what I see (COMMON PEOPLE)
I hear you through the silence (HEADLINE) 🤝 I can still hear a silence (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)
It’s the way we see ourselves through walls of trees (ALL THIS TIME) 🤝 Finding faces in the trees (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
Sit down with a master plan (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 Sit down sit down in the space and time (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
But I’m king on a 50 metre road (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 we're still the kings of the Friday nights (CHANGE)
Silver streets and the neon signs (CHANGE) 🤝 feeling dirty cheap on silver street (SATURDAYS) (🤝Silver tongues)
It’s you and me until the end (THE GREATEST) 🤝 You and me until the end (SILVER TONGUES)
If every star is an eye the sky you’ll see angels fly (ANGELS FLY) 🤝 You should be staring at the sky, the birds just passing by love (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)
Silver tongues (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 Conversation is currency (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
Said I had a plan for us (THE GREATEST) 🤝 Sit down with a master plan (SILVER TONGUES)
We had to disappear cos nothing gets through here (THE GREATEST) 🤝 cos we faded into darkness (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)
faded into darkness (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE) 🤝 Fade into light (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
So come on call me liar yeah you're so quick to judge (THE GREATEST) 🤝 So fast judge in error, you thought you knew me better, so quick to kill forever (HEADLINE)
You let your pride hide all your beauty and your kindness (HEADLINE) 🤝 She is beauty (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
If you need you can call on me, I'll be the friend you need (CHANGE) 🤝 We haven’t seen you yeah we’ve given you your space, pick up the phone cos now it’s time you learnt to say (THAT'S THE WAY LOVE GOES) 🤝 Cos if you’re lonely in Chicago you can call me baby (CHICAGO) 🤝 I’ll knock on your door it’ll save me from calling (ANGELS FLY) (🤝 ->)
I didn’t have to search cos I still know your number (CHICAGO) 🤝 I called you twice but then regretted it and changed my number (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)
Time of our lives, it's easy to see, we were just getting by but we were complete (CHANGE) 🤝 Lately, lately it’s been so easy to see my life completed instead of half way full (PARADISE)
Time of our lives, it's easy to see, we were just getting by but we were complete (CHANGE) 🤝 That was enough for me, you know you had to see it to believe, all the late nights, good times / No deep pockets but big hearts, do you see what I see (COMMON PEOPLE)
You won't be the first or be the last to bleed, every broken heart as far as your eye can see (COPY OF A COPY) 🤝 Not for the first time, not for the last time, we always used to say "Saturdays take the pain away" (SATURDAYS)
They always say is so bad for me, everything I tried makes me feel alive (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 takin' all of my demons, Putting them where I won't see them, cos I just wanna feel alive (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 Good and bad and right and wrong are stories made up when we we’re young to scare us, love and hate are in between, depends on your reality to see them, I just wanna stay in the moment the rest of my life (FACE THE MUSIC)
See all these waves and waves of green / smoke some weed outside in the summertime, they always say it's so bad for me (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 Getting high on the amber wave / You said grass was a dirty drug (SILVER TONGUES)
Everything that matters is forgotten (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 Nothing really matters, nothing really hurts (ANGELS FLY)
I/you still doubt that what I/you do can get me/you home when it gets cold (ALL THIS TIME) 🤝 Together we’re the greatest, we’ll never be that cold again (THE GREATEST)
Nights like these we’ll remember those songs we wrote only we know (SILVER TONGUES) 🤝 You’ll hear strangers singing you name if you act like you’re one of us (COMMON PEOPLE)
Let’s buy some time (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 I’m on my way with some time to borrow (ANGELS FLY)
Look at the horizon, does it make you feel small, put the pain behind you now, you don’t need it anymore (ANGELS FLY) 🤝 So I’m not gonna spend another night of dreaming of what could’ve been, keep your eyes on the horizon, paradise is in your own mind anyway (PARADISE)
someone’s else fantasy is nothing like reality (SAVED BY A STRANGER) 🤝 stories made up when we we’re young to scare us, love and hate are in between, depends on your reality to see them (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 Fabricated fairytales bring a new world to life (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 If you believe that guy is superman (LUCKY AGAIN)
You know the party’s over when you’re standing in an empty space alone (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE) 🤝 Back dancing in the dark, back to the very start, finding pieces that can fit, making up for what we missed, I said you know me, alone we’re only just as good as the rest (THE GREATEST)
Together we're the greatest (THE GREATEST) 🤝 It's bigger than me (BIGGER THAN ME)
It's an old curse, dreamers divin' head first, broken beaks and dead birds / every broken heart as far as the eye can see (COPY OF A COPY) 🤝 And time can always heal ya if you let it make its way into your bones / You should be staring at the sky the birds just passing by love / you said I'm holding on to heartache (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)
Blue like the lights surrounding me (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 Surrounded by light (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
It’s written all over your face, say it (WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE) 🤝 Your face reminded me of a love you cannot hide but don’t need to tell me why (THE GREATEST)
Escaping the inevitable, fade into light (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 I don't wanna face the music but I still wanna dance with you (FACE THE MUSIC) 🤝 Back dancing in the dark (THE GREATEST)
We’re the greatest, it’s you and me until the end, life for us is never over 🤝 forever we'll let the feeling last (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
It’s hard enough to get you sober, I’ve got no chance if I’m hungover (WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE) 🤝 You said grass was a dirty drug, you like to preach with vodka in your mug (SILVER TONGUES)
I've woken up from my sleep, it's bigger than me (BIGGER THAN ME) 🤝 I ain’t even woken up yet, not nearly vertical (WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE) (nasty edition)
Demons, I'm takin' all of my demons, putting them where I won't see them (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 You'll see angels fly (ANGELS FLY)
Somebody's got your trainers on (SATURDAYS) 🤝 I bet sometimes you still like to wear my jumper (CHICAGO)
Gotta get it out of my system, gotta get it off of my chest (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 We stand up tall and beat our chest, shout some things that we’ll regret (SILVER TONGUES)
Hidden across my face in the crowd I'm counting up the days in a haze (SATURDAYS) 🤝 Let’s buy some time for what we shouldn’t do I don’t wanna face the music but I still wanna dance with you (FACE THE MUSIC)
Hidden across my face in the crowd I'm counting up the days in a haze (SATURDAYS) 🤝 The way you know something, your face reminded me of a love you cannot hide (THE GREATEST)
Are we one or are we two? Are we me or are we you? (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS) 🤝 Our eyes meet and I can tell that you’re the same as me (ALL THIS TIME).
I am only half of what I think I can be (OUT OF MY SYSTEM) 🤝 Are we one or are we two? (SHE'S BEAUTY WE ARE WORLD CLASS)
But the truth is I still doubt that what I do can get me home when it gets cold (ALL THIS TIME) 🤝 when I get lost I go back to where I started (COMMON PEOPLE)
45. nothing stays the same (CHANGE) 🤝 Until nothing is the same (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) 🤝 But nobody stays the same (SATURDAYS) (🤝->) 46. Time it came and changed it all (THE GREATEST) 🤝 The wind held us up but we knew that all would change (HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE)🤝 Some things change (SATURDAYS) (🤝->) 47. somebody told me I would change I was afraid and don't know why (BIGGER THAN ME)🤝I don't know why everything's changed / Everything's changed outside but I feel the same inside (CHANGE) 🤝 Spent my whole life just thinking I had to change (HIGH IN CALIFORNIA) (🤝->) 48. Common people, nothing’s changed (COMMON PEOPLE) 🤝And all the people have changed (CHANGE)🤝Cos yeah I might have changed but everybody does (BIGGER THAN ME)🤝 and I wished that I could tell her that she changed me for the better (SAVED BY A STRANGER)
my inbox is open if you got more asdfsd
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17yearcicada · 5 months
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also to a certain extent. and i have never fully bought into divine inspiration so that could be why. but "well this gospel says there were two angels but this gospel says there was only one" is not the huge faith-shaking bomb you think it is
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rawliverandgoronspice · 3 months
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not dipping back there again after this, but my opinion on where the discourse re: us politics is heading is not getting any nicer.
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rioblitzle · 4 months
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yeah i feel like the term "video essay" has become generalised to mean any sort of longform review or discussion youtube content, without a need for a solid thesis or baseline level of analysis at the structural core of the video (having seen the term applied to media reviews, icebergs, tier lists, series recaps etc), and that misclassification can be pretty unfortunate, but i don't think that necessarily means that those video not-quite-essays have an inherent lack of value or passion in them yknow?
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direwombat · 9 months
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❛ i never meant to hurt you. ❜ -> for the apology prompt 🤍
Ahhhhhh tysm~! this prompt screams the aftermath of syb finding augustine living that cult life in joseph's compound :') so here's the first draft of that I guess lol </3
Tw for a few references to suicide ideation and syb uh...not being in a good place emotionally
Water splashes as Sybille stomps her way through the muddy puddles of Joseph’s Compound, storming towards the gates. Jacob had to escort her from the chapel, physically restraining her as she kicked and screamed curses towards Joseph for how he’d hid her brother from her and indoctrinated him into the Cult. She’d nearly killed him then and there; nearly wrapped her hands around the preacher to wring his skinny little neck.
She should have killed him. Heard John’s voice whispering in the back of her head urging her to, that mindless, animal wrath held back only by Jacob’s strong arms, and even he had struggled to hold her back.
Her hands are balled tightly into fists, her fingernails digging so hard into her palms that she’s drawing blood. She stomps past a number of Peggies and none of them try to hinder her departure. They follow her with their haunting gazes as they watch their enemy, the Deputy, walk away a broken woman, each of them coming to the dawning realization that their victory over the County may be closer than anticipated.
She makes it through the gate, past the chain link fence, numbly navigating her way back to the main road that bisects the island. The near constant ringing in her ears builds in both volume and pitch. It pierces through her head, making her feel dizzy and unsteady on her feet. But she can’t stop. She lurches along the dirt road as it winds and twists, dragging her feet like they’re encased in concrete.
She needs a smoke. She needs some whiskey. She needs to kill something – feel the blood on her skin and watch the life drain from its eyes.
She needs a bullet in her head.
When she reaches the shoulder of the road, she stumbles into the gravel, taking a moment to catch her breath now that there’s at least a marginal distance between her and the Project. But when a large, calloused hand wraps around her wrist, she instinctively whips around to punch her assailant. The cartilage of their nose crunches underneath the force of her knuckles. She strikes so quickly that she doesn’t even realize who she’s hitting until it’s too late.
Jacob reels back, releasing his grip on her in favor of clutching at his face. Blood trickles between his fingers as he hunches over for a moment, recovering from the unexpected burst of pain. He lets out a grunt, resetting his nose as he straightens back up. “I deserved that,” he groans, blinking away the water in his eyes.
“Ya damn right, you did,” she growls, cradling her bruised knuckles to her chest and shooting him an icy glare. “Ain’t you already got your pound of flesh?” she seethes. “The fuck more you want from me?” 
“I…” he hesitates and the longer he looks at her — the longer he stares into the rage blazing behind her eyes — his shoulders begin to sag and his mouth twists apologetically. He looks like a child who’s been caught misbehaving. Like he’s finally realizing exactly what it is he’s done. “I never meant to hurt you,” he mutters quietly.  
Her eyes go wide, and her jaw drops in utter shock. “You…You never meant —” she scoffs a bitter laugh, “— you never meant to hurt me?” She stares at him, shaking her head in disbelief before her expression hardens. She points a finger at him and stalks forward with her teeth bared in a snarl. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Need I remind you of the original nature of our relationship, hm? How you sent people to hunt me down, and when they proved incapable, you hunted me down your damn self. You drugged and kidnapped me, strapped me to a chair and kept me in cages and started…” Her fingers claw and flex before balling into tightly clenched fists. 
She trembles in anger. Her face goes red as she futilely holds back a building scream. “You forced your way into my head to try to make me kill Eli,” she shrieks. “You turned me into a tool, Jacob! A fuckin’ tool!” Her voice cracks, and rage washes through her and she storms forward. With outstretched arms, she gives him a forceful shove. “And now I find out that you kidnapped my brother and gave him to Joseph to use him as a bargaining chip.”
She swallows thickly and sucks in a shuddering breath before leveling him with a frigid stare. “And you have the gall to look me in the face and say you never meant to hurt me?” Her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches when he doesn’t respond. He just stands there, staring at her with sorry eyes. “Bullshit,” she spits. “Bullshit, you ain’t mean to hurt me. You’ve been tryin’ to hurt me from the damn start!”
 He has the courtesy to look ashamed of himself, at the very least. 
Tears burn at her eyes, and for the first time, she doesn’t have the strength to hold them back. The dams break loose and nearly two decades worth of tears burst through. They flow down her cheeks, leaving clearly defined trails amongst the dirt and grime clinging to her face.
“I trusted you! I let you in! I thought we was the same and you fuckin’ betray me!” she screams. “I hate you! You should’ve killed me! You should’ve fuckin’ killed me!” She lunges forward to shove him again, only to pitch forward into his chest. Instinctively, his arms wrap around her. Whether it’s to restrain or comfort her, she can’t say, but the second his arms close in to hold her, squeezing her tight, she goes limp.
All the fight leaves her body, and he cradles her while she clings to his shirt, burying her face as she sobs into it. His hand comes to stroke her hair and he leans down to press soft kisses to the top of her head. “I know, honey,” he murmurs. “I know.”
She has no idea how long the two of them stand there on the side of the road. No idea how long he shields her quivering body from view of the occasional Project truck that passes by. Even now, despite everything, he protects her. He helps hide her, giving her as much privacy as he can while she breaks down. She sobs and wails out into the night – pathetic, emotional, weak – and he rocks her gently, whispering apologies all the while.  
Not once, does he give any sign of letting go.
Not when she begins to struggle against him, trying to pull away.
Not when her knees buckle and he’s the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground.
 He’s the only thing keeping her from crawling back to the grave Faith had dug for her and meeting the same grim fate as her Daddy.
He knows this.
And he knows that he’s the one to have pushed her towards it.
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inafieldofdaisies · 7 months
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Either 1. In hand holding or 50. In touching for John x Sabrina :3
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50. Putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up / Prompt from this post.
Minutes ticked by where Sabrina found herself wide awake and unable to shake off the stress caused by the dinner Joseph had insisted on. Beside her, John was fast asleep, and after trying and failing to follow suit, she lifted his arm off her waist and got up. She quietly tiptoed over to the door leading to his bedroom's balcony, slipping on the shirt he was wearing earlier that night and stepped outside after a final look in his direction while he instinctively felt around the sheets in his sleep, no doubt searching for her. A sigh escaped her when the cool air hit her bare legs and she leaned over the railing as she took a deep breath, willing for the heavy feeling in her chest to subside. Her eyes initially focused on the moon and how it peeked inbetween the gathered clouds, then moved down to the dark tree line and faint lights in the distance before eventually shifting to the set of patio chairs by the side door of the house. To her surprise, one of them wasn't empty as expected, instead she could make out the faint outline of a woman wearing a white dress lounging in it, the overhead lights on the porch making her fair hair stand out as she stared off at the greenery surrounding the ranch. If it wasn't for the knowledge that they had a guest staying over, Sabrina would have described the sight as ethereal, concerning to a degree and slightly reminiscent of the youngest member of the Seed family, Faith. The decision for Mercedes, as she had introduced herself to her, or Mercy, as everyone else kept calling her, to spend the night there instead of returning to the Compound with Joseph was made last minute. She was the woman 'The Father' kept looking at throughout dinner as she led the conversation and charmed everyone with her easygoing personality.
The woman whose existence Faith refused to acknowledge from the moment she stepped a foot in the house, instead choosing to embrace 'John's Deputy' and whisper to her how she had always wanted to have another female around. "We will be just like sisters.", she had added with a small laugh while twirling a lock of her hair. The woman that as John insisted was strongly despised by Jacob, yet Sabrina had seen otherwise when her fork decided to take an embarrassing dive under the table. The signs were there, no matter how much the Seeds refused to admit it. After the tense and frankly strange evening, she couldn't help but wonder how they found no issue in having a feast while the County did its hardest to overthrow them. She took somewhat of a comfort in the fact Mercedes at least seemed to be struggling with something as well and maybe wasn't as unbothered as the rest if she was sitting outside at such late hour. The time passed in silence only filled by the low buzzing of insects around the house, then as Sabrina finally talked herself into heading back inside, a sight below stopped her in her tracks. She squinted her eyes, trying to better make out the dark figure that had passed through the trees as unease took over her system in anticipation of potential danger. "I thought you left.", Mercedes' voice carried over, taking a strange note when she addresses the man that had emerged from the shadows. "I did. Then I changed my mind halfway to the Whitetails.", Jacob eventually uttered out as he remained standing up and a couple of feet away from her, hands stuck in his jeans pockets. "Why? And you can sit down, you know. I will be on my best behavior, brother.", she said slowly, adding a bite to the last word that made her sound nothing like 'Mercy'. "Do we have to talk about you using that word again, Mercedes?", his tone was full of warning when he finally lowered himself in the chair next to hers. "No, I'm just pulling your leg, though, I certainly enjoyed the last time we had to.", a laugh left Mercedes just as footsteps sounded behind Sabrina. "You're going to catch a cold, Deputy.", John called out way too loudly, and plastered his body to hers. Before she could think better of it, she spun around and cupped a hand over his mouth, effectively muffling his next sentence. He stared down at her in amusement as he gripped the railing and caged her in between his arms, seeming completely oblivious to the two people below them and how close he had gotten to drawing their attention. Sabrina rose on her tip-toes, breath fanning over his skin when she whispered in his ear, "Don't talk. Just…listen." His nod made her remove her hand from his mouth and he grasped it in his, bringing it back to his lips to place a kiss to her palm. "So, you missed me?", Mercedes remarked playfully, causing John's eyes to widen as Sabrina faced forward again and snuggled into his body and the warmth it was offering her. "No, I just felt like trekking back to the ranch for no reason. What do you think, sweetheart?" Jacob's question was loaded, and it seemed like his younger brother was holding his breath as he waited for a response to it. "I think I'm going back to bed.", Mercedes got out of her seat and came to a brief stop in front of him as she added, "Are you coming too or planning on camping out in the woods?" Jacob held her gaze in silence for a couple of beats, then stood up too, the side door of the ranch slamming shut behind them as he followed her in. "What did I just witness, Deputy?", John muttered out quietly, no doubt shaken by the new revelation. Sabrina swiveled around again, smirking his way when she whispered, "Do you believe me now?"
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faith-thee-slayer · 2 years
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What makes Buffy and Faith such an excellent pairing for me is the ambiguous, undefined nature of their dynamic. BTVS never explicitly states their relationship as romantic (and even with the piles of subtext, a lot of it is ambiguous enough for an unsuspecting audience to be none the wiser). And a lot of character dynamics in media tend to focus more on the romantic end. We all want to see an epic romance (I do too), and of course romance can be complicated and messy, but what fascinates me the most are the complicated dynamics that aren’t straightforwardly stated as “the characters have feelings for each other/are in love.” What has me captivated is when their dynamic is left up to interpretation, able to be explored on several different levels at once. I think Buffy and Faith have one of the best dynamics on the show because they are not explicitly romantic. I think a canon recognition of such feelings for each other would actually limit the reading of their dynamic (and I know this sounds strange coming from a Fuffy stan but hear me out).
Buffy and Faith’s dynamic has several facets to it, most notably:
1. The Slayer-bond — They are the only two people on the planet that know what it’s like to be the Slayer. They are sisters, in that regard. You could almost say they’re blood-related, united under a birthright and an ancient system which oppresses and controls them. Cut from the same cloth, whether they choose to accept it or not. Both envy the other, wanting to be the other girl. Both feel like they’re being replaced by the other. They are Cain and Abel. And after everything, when the Potentials take refuge in Buffy’s home, she and Faith have to step up and be the leaders the girls need.
2. Desire for the chosen family — Faith will never admit it but she wants the love of a family, what she never had in Boston. When she meets the Scoobies, she hopes they can be that for her. And Buffy, though she does have a family in Sunnydale, still feels like they can’t truly understand her. Once Buffy and Faith meet, the potential is there for them to both get exactly what they need. But failures on both sides prevent this from happening. And it doesn’t help that the Mayor is the thing that the Scoobies couldn’t be for Faith. She admits more than once how much she covets Buffy’s friends, family, and Watcher, and her exclusion from the “in-group” continues to be a point of contention throughout the series.
3. Antagonism — It hurts hard when Faith betrays Buffy. Even if they didn’t get off to a great start, their connection develops over the season, and you can tell they never wanted to be enemies. But due to their individual natures, as well as the building of emotions surrounding their slayer bond, the attempts (or lack thereof) at making Faith feel connected to the in-group, and the fallout after Allan Finch, their relationship fractures. Faith feels driven to evil and that’s what she becomes. And being someone who fights evil, Buffy has to go against her. And it hurts so much for both of them — because you think you know someone and can trust them. You feel like you’ve finally found the thing you’ve been looking for all this time. And then one day you wake up and all that’s gone. And you do horrible things to each other. And you know that it’ll never go back to the way things were before. And neither of you will be the same person again. Even years later, when they come together to stop the First, the history is still there between them. Will the elephant in the room ever go away? Or will it always be a trigger for the both of them to jump right back to old times?
4. "They were in love” — Of course we cannot forget the lovers lens when talking about these two. In a lot of ways, it’s the interpretation that makes the most sense for them. The levels of intense emotion that these two reach, especially on Faith’s end, can be hard to justify in a platonic light. And that was after Faith’s flirting, her dismissal of all men, disdain for Angel, and making everything in her life about Buffy. There’s also the deliberate parallels of Faith to Angel and Spike (main two explicit love interests) to the point where Riley (third explicit love interest) is often overlooked in favor of Faith. Buffy is ultimately her weakness. She wants Buffy to care about her, approve of her, be there for her, and to see that they are the same person. And when the shit hits the fan, Faith is absolutely devastated. Heartbroken to the point of aiding in the apocalypse, trying to kill the Scoobies, Angel, Joyce, doing the body swap, etc. Anything to hurt Buffy back. And Buffy is heartbroken because of Faith’s turn into evil. She begs Faith to let her in and help. She fights for Faith in the hopes of bringing her back to sanity, but once she realize Faith is helping the Mayor, she shuts her feelings off because it’s easier. And when she has to put a knife in Faith? When she kisses Faith’s forehead in the hospital (mirroring Faith’s first kiss to her)? When she dreams about Faith? When Faith wakes up months later and Buffy’s first thought is that she’s hiding somewhere, feeling sorry and wanting her help? Anyway...
All of these different aspects/lenses carry a unique weight in viewing Buffy and Faith’s connection to each other. But I think that by putting a significant amount of weight on the romantic lens via canon confirmation, the other lenses lose the ability to stand on their own outside of a romantic reading. Because then it becomes strictly “they went through all that they went through and did all those things to each other because they always had feelings for each other.” All moments of affection/obsession one of them has for the other are seen solely as romantic. Which, is a fine reading, but it overshadows other ways of viewing the dynamic, and becomes the most important/only way of looking at it. We then miss out on the sister dynamic, the “I want to be you” dynamic, the “you are the one who understands me the best but I actually want to be completely separate from you,” the estranged family members dynamic in S7. Ultimately, I think we rarely see two characters on the same side obsessed with each other in a non-romantic way. It’s so fascinating and occupies this unidentifiable space in human relationships. It becomes less easily explainable and understood.
And it does a justice to both Buffy and Faith’s characters if we see their actions as existing outside of their relationship. I love seeing Faith’s development as she becomes her own person separate from Buffy. She breaks out of prison to save her best friend and prove she can be a Slayer again. She chooses redemption for herself. She makes amends with who she can. She rejects the First when it comes to her in the form of the Mayor. She experiences what it is to be responsible for the lives of other. And after their last confrontation in ‘Sanctuary,’ Buffy gets to move on from Faith and heal/focus on other things in her life. And she goes through a-fucking-lot from S4 to S7. Before I want Buffy and Faith to get together, I want them to HEAL and to GROW. I want them to be the best versions of themselves and not so codependent (as much as it makes for good drama).
So that’s what I appreciate about Fuffy — the romantic reading isn’t the Official reading, it’s just one of several fascinating angles. It’s like the cherry on top. Some of the best dynamics in the Buffyverse are the ones that are friendships, or more familial (siblings, parent-child), or complexly antagonistic. Somehow Buffy and Faith are capable of doing nearly all of it at the same time without actually ascribing any one label to themselves. Amazing.
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sesamestreep · 1 year
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Chirrut/Baze, 35
35. It’s brighter now (from this prompt list)
“It needs more lights.”
Baze grunts in both acknowledgement and frustration from his precarious spot at the top of a very tall ladder. “Can you let me get down first before we critique?”
“Sorry, Professor,” Chirrut says, with a smile, clearly unrepentant.
Baze grumbles again, at the glib nickname and at his knees, which are registering their complaint over going up and down a ladder repeatedly. He doesn’t know how he ended up here—well, that’s not entirely true. He knows how he ended up here today in a literal sense. Chirrut had asked him this morning, as they were both getting dressed for work, if he could stop by the community center after he was done with his classes for the day and help him set up the Christmas tree in the lobby. The kids who attend programming at the center will make ornaments and garlands and all that during their art classes and decorate it to their hearts’ content, but someone needed to assemble to enormous fake tree and add the lights. Somehow, this person ended up being Baze.
“What did you used to do about assembling the tree?” Baze had asked earlier, as he moved papers around on his desk looking for his keys. The back half of that question—before you met me—is left unsaid, though Chirrut clearly heard it anyway.
“Grindr,” Chirrut had replied, straight-faced.
Baze had tripped over his own feet and knocked a small hard drive off the desk for good measure. “What?!”
“Idiot,” Chirrut said, lovingly. “Bodhi normally helps me, but it needs to get done this week and he’s busy.”
“Bodhi is busy with something that isn’t catering to your every whim and eccentricity?” he asked. Chirrut’s assistant is, as far as Baze is concerned, an actual saint for the amount of nonsense Chirrut puts him through. He’s convinced Chirrut would forget to eat without Bodhi to remind him. “I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” Chirrut said. “Just between you and me: I think he’s dating someone.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He suddenly has plans outside of work.”
“That’s not that strange.”
“It is for Bodhi,” Chirrut replied. “I’m not complaining. I think it’s good for him.”
“But now you’re realizing how much unpaid overtime you ask of him.”
“I’m a terrible manager,” he said, with a bright grin. “And an even worse boyfriend.”
“I’ll help you with your tree,” Baze had said with a heavy sigh. It’s always pointless to argue with Chirrut. “Just don’t introduce me to people as your boyfriend. It makes us sound like teenagers.”
“We’re not teenagers?” Chirrut had asked, as he slipped his arms around Baze’s waist from behind and kissed him on the shoulder. Against the shell of his ear a moment later, he’d added, “Could have fooled me.”
In the end, they’d both been a little late to work this morning.
Now, safely back on the ground, Baze steps back to survey his work. Chirrut is perched atop the front desk in the lobby, feet swinging like a little kid and gaze fixed on the tree.
“It looks good,” Baze says, but not quite firmly enough. He does think the tree looks good, but the statement still went up at the end like a question. He, stupid man that he is, wants Chirrut’s approval.
“It needs more lights,” Chirrut says, in the exact same tone as before. Pleasant, but brooking no argument.
“You can’t even see it!”
“And still I know it needs more lights.”
“How?”
“I can feel it,” he says. “The tree is too dim.”
“Chirrut…”
“I know, I know. I’m very taxing. But we have more lights. We might as well use them.”
“Fine, but if I fall and die because you insisted on the tree needing more lights on it, when it looked fine already…”
“I’ll feel very silly indeed. They’ll all chuckle at the eulogy I give.”
“I don’t want you anywhere near my eulogy,” Baze grumbles.
“Who else would do it?”
“Leave it to Jyn,” he says, crossing over to the desk, where the extra sets of lights are sitting next to Chirrut. “The service will last five minutes, tops.”
“You would want an expedient funeral.”
“No point in dithering. I’m already dead.”
“Jyn won’t be your graduate student forever, you know…”
“No, but I’ve made the mistake of getting emotionally attached to her, so she’s a permanent fixture, I’m afraid.”
“I like Jyn,” Chirrut says, pleasantly. “Why should you be afraid of admitting that?”
Baze waves a hand, dismissively, even though such a thing is useless around Chirrut. “You know how I am about feelings.”
“You’d just as soon not be burdened by them?”
“Yes,” he replies, pulling out another strand of lights to test at the nearby outlet.
Chirrut snorts. “You know, it’s that kind of attitude that kept you single well into your fifties.”
“‘Well into my fifties!’ I’m fifty-three! And you, if all people, should be happy I stayed single as long as I did.”
“I’m not prone to jealousy,” Chirrut says. “As long as you were single when we met, I would have been happy.”
Baze unplugs the lights rather more savagely than necessary. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Chirrut’s hand darts out suddenly to grasp him by the wrist. His thumb moves gently over Baze’s pulse point. It’s enough to stall him in his plan to retreat in a huff, and he covers Chirrut’s hand with his own.
“I sometimes feel guilty that I didn’t find you sooner,” Chirrut says, earnestly. “I know that’s foolish, but it is how I feel.”
Baze doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s almost too big of an offering to understand, let alone accept. “You found me,” he says, after a moment. “That’s what matters.”
“Still, we could have had a life together…”
“We have a life together now.”
“You think I’m a silly old man.”
“Yes,” Baze says, squeezing his hand. “And I love you for it.”
“You hear that?” Chirrut asks the empty lobby. “He loves me!”
“A very silly old man,” Baze says, as he feels his own face warm in equally foolish embarrassment.
“More lights!” he chirps, happily, his former earnestness now pleasantly forgotten.
“Is this why you wish we’d met sooner? So tormenting me about the Christmas tree could be a yearly tradition?”
“It still can be! Life is what we make of it!”
Baze groans, but dutifully returns to the tree to add the next strand of lights. He repeats this process until they’ve used every last strand that Chirrut had the staff at the center pull out of storage, and then steps back to admire his handiwork.
“See?” Chirrut asks, even though he himself cannot.
“You were right,” Baze admits, begrudgingly. The tree is bright enough to light the entire lobby now. “It looks better.”
“I’m always right. When will you learn?”
Baze returns to Chirrut’s side. “I’m getting used to the idea.”
“Does this mean I’ll be able to convince you to buy a tree for your place?”
Baze sighs, and turns to face him, letting his head tip forward until their foreheads touch. His hands come to rest on Chirrut’s hips. He doesn’t normally decorate for the holiday, partially because he doesn’t really celebrate Christmas but mostly because he’s just never seen the point. He’d just have to take everything back down in January! That’s far too much effort for his taste. Still, he can already feel himself wavering on that conviction. This compulsive need to make Chirrut happy is really interfering with his reputation as a miserable old bastard.
“I’m fairly certain you could convince me to do almost anything,” he says, and Chirrut’s answering smile is even brighter than the damn tree.
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whats the point of leftist praxis if youre just going to be mean and cynical to everyone. literally if your politics aren’t grounded in Being Kind they are worthless to me. personally i dont want subsidized healthcare and fair wages because i read that theyre Correct in a book somewhere. i just think its a dick move to have a world where people cant afford to live. conservatism isnt Mean because it’s Bad, it’s Bad because it’s Mean.
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spaceratprodigy · 6 months
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Send 🌳 for our muses to admire the fall foliage together - for Rhea and Faith if thats ok?
@captastra — [ autumnal prompts ]
So delighted to finally draw Faith and Rhea for the first time!! I can't wait to work on all of our other ideas as well 💖💕
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randomszzz · 2 years
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Joshua, Probably*: Life is pain and I’m under no obligation to make the afterlife any better.  In fact, it would be cruel of me to send you back without making sure you’re properly prepared for it, I’m doing you a favor.  A humanitarian like me loves people, after all.
#joshua#twewy#ntwewy#the world ends with you#Neo The World Ends With You#okay the humanitarian line is another day joshua who is definitely not Our Fucking Joshua but it fit too much to ignore#*Every thought about joshua needs to be accompanied by this as far as I'm concerned.  I don't trust him and if I think something about him#its likely wrong he'll go out of his way to prove me wrong just to spite me#uh usually there's more coherent qualifiers but the only counterindicator leaping out aat me is using another day joshua#instead of ours which doesn't amount to much#I'll definitely look at this later and smack my head but in this second it pretty thoroughly checks out#prompt for this thought: joshua a bunch of reapers and players are suffering and being erased#joshua: here's me playing the world's tiniest violin#no but actually as immensely frustrating as it is why would joshua take exception to players or reapers being erased or suffering#its categorically worse in neo but its always been a part of the game and Joshua now believes they can overcome it#Joshua has faith in his proxies and the people of shibuya and wants to see them triumph.  prove that they can.#if they suffer and some are lost along the way isn't that just life(death).  nbd.  he'd interfere if things took a turn for the worse#but THEY HANDLED THINGS JUST FINE#head in hands joshua why are you like this#even if he's just covering that he couldn't do anything (I don't really buy this explanation but acknowledge its possibility)#hes still so flippant to nekus face about what neku and his friends went through#neku's incredible he doesn't really respond to that line I don't know whether its better described#as acceptance or dismissal#Joshua: that was fine Neku: can I go home now#both I guess???#hey like half my joshua thoughts made it into this tag dump ah the relief of not having to be coherent#Joshua Kiryuu
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austerulous · 2 years
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Maybe I shouldn’t be tweaking my muse list while I’m still rocking a fever but, fuck it, we ball.  I’ve removed Saint Adeline and the Dancer, and I’m adding a new test muse:
› MARCO BODT – ( Attack on Titan )
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onceuponanaromantic · 2 years
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the great sage (avoiding the horses’ plague)
(written for @flashfictionfridayofficial​‘s prompt: FFF167: Leap of Faith. Not related to anything else I’m working on, but a resurrection of a very old story idea I never finished! Title, quite literally, Sun Wukong’s. Enjoy!)
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While there is rather less green and quite a bit more grey, he could see why the humans called cities concrete jungles.
             He cackled, throwing himself into a backflip off the streetlamp steel to land on a windowsill. The lamps cast his shadow upon the pavement as he flew, the remaining leaves rustling off branches as he flew. Autumn had always been his favourite time of year, more so now that the Jade Court had bigger things to worry about than his eminent self.
             Wukong had thought they had forgotten him, to his indignation. What a horror, to be forgotten! Him, the great monkey god! He had angrily climbed a taller specimen of those buildings the humans had constructed in his absence, only to reach the garden to loud shrieks. It rather turned out that they hadn’t forgotten him, but rather were struggling with bigger issues. Such as getting humans to believe in them again.
             He hadn’t quite got their meaning, but apparently, in his absence, there had been a deep erasure of their existence in favour of some other god. He gathered it had been violent and rather miserable, judging by the exhaustion in the farmer’s eyes and the shudder in the tails of the animal spirits he had come across. The forests fluttered sadly to him, the great peach trees of his home mountain reaching joyfully, if fearfully towards him. He had searched, almost frantically, for his old compatriots, the great monkeys of the Mountain, the great rulers of the hill in his absence.
             He felt the fear grip his heart, and he understood why they no longer worried about him.
             He had found the daughter of a daughter of one of his old advisors. She looked upon his face, fingers reaching gingerly to his staff and the family marks upon his fur. He remembered the way her great-grandmother laughed arrogantly as she threw gods out from the mountain for daring to disturb her rest, and his voice shuddered as he asked her where the rest of them were.
             “They hide.”
             He had felt a surge of revulsion. What was there to hide from that the mountain could not protect his own? But she had only nodded solemnly, her fingers clenching the same way her ancestor’s had.
             “I stayed here to wait.”
             And so she told him the story of how the monkeys had gone out, mischief used to defend their forests using mist and the warm waters of streams flowing out from the rivers. But the rivers had dried and the forests burned, and one by one, they had stopped responding to her messages. The forest itself poisoned and the rivers stinging where they once soothed, she told him the story of how her family had been chosen to remain as the strongest and wisest.
             The waters of time had long since taught him not to rush off impulsively as the anger, fear, and grief warred in his heart. If he had been younger, he would have drawn his staff immediately, surged off in a burst of wind to the forests to seek out his monkeys. But age had told him to wait and research. To learn more about this new world, to listen to the spells the human now cast, the whispers of the forests until he learnt how best to help those he considered his.
             It hadn’t been all gloom. She told him proudly of her younger sister picking the freshest apples from the conqueror’s banquet, throwing them into the air and disappearing in a laugh. She told him of her partner’s twisting the river to throw the humans off balance as they tried to sail down it, calling the current to his will. She told him about her own visit, leaving her young daughter in charge, to the Dragon of the East River.
             “Does his palace still miss its pillar?” He asked, laughingly.
           “He remembers you. And so does his palace.” Hetao said, responding with a smile of her own.
             And he had talked the night away, staying and resting for weeks until he had been ready to reenter the city.
             It helped, of course, that he had always been drawn to mischief. He looked at the arching neon sprays of paint across school walls and added rude points of his own. He stole important documents from offices, folding them into flowers and scattering them in mounds across the ground. He threw himself into the air, again and again, seeking the same joy he had once felt in it. He shifted form, bird, fly, mosquito, lion, human, and then monkey again, tricking swans as he dove into lakes as a fish before taking flight.
             Wukong sought out the warriors of this time, his staff in hand as he kicked and slashed through fights. He bowed after, of course he did, and he always held back his strength, but it was always just a little bit not enough for him.
             He tricked other spirits and demons, but it was no fun.
             And all this, he did while he waited, while he learned how to craft an identity for himself to live in this world as he did his research. He learned the new mediums for trickery, shifting himself as easily as he did while alive. It was a fascinating experience, as he remembered fondly how he first learned to shift between forms, as he applied those same lessons to learning new things.
             No one believed in his name, but it was no bother. They invoked him casually, teenagers bored out of their minds while stuck in their homes. He deigned to respond sometimes, sparks of magic that shorted out the capillaries of electricity to their places, sudden colour changes to plain facades. But he had learned to listen, and so he did.
             What use is constantly leaping, after all, if you don’t know what you’re jumping into?
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weretoad-writer · 2 years
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Terminal Velocity
Summary: A conversation between Adaryc and the Watcher in the aftermath of the events at Cayron’s Scar.
Note: In this timeline the White March (both parts) takes place after the events of the main quest, so the Watcher is on his own and the Iron Flail plays a much larger role. Also, for context, Elan technically has cipher abilities, but has been suppressing them for a long time, so he only gets involuntary reads on people when the thoughts/emotions are very loud.
Content Advisory: swearing, brief description of drowning
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Elan sat on his bedroll in the infirmary tent taking stock. He wasn’t dead; that was a surprise. Not a particularly pleasant one given how damn much it hurt just to breathe. He had already made the mistake of coughing and nearly passed out. Broken ribs, then. And whatever the fuck two lungs full of icewater had done to his insides. His clothes and armor were gone. But someone had mercifully left his weapons beside his bedroll. He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious; the last thing he remembered there had been daylight, and now it was full night.  
He shut his eyes, and he was back under the ice, in the dark and the cold, as the pressure crushed his insides and water filled his lungs. In his head he was still drowning. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d never made it out. 
His eyes flinched open. Someone was standing before him, an Orlan, their bloodstained apron and harried expression marking them as the medic. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” Elan’s voice came out in a hoarse croak. “Where’s the commander?”
“How the Hel should I know?” they snapped, ears slanting backwards in irritation. “He’s supposed to be here, but does he listen to me? No!” They fixed Elan with a glare as though all of this was somehow his doing. He supposed, in a sense, it was. Breaking into the Battery was what had started this mess after all. “There’s not much I can do for cracked ribs, I’m afraid,” they added, relenting at last with a small huff. “Seida – our priest – might be able to speed things along, but that will have to wait.” They cracked a rueful smile. “Triage is a bitch.”
Elan nodded; he didn’t care about any of that. Adaryc had made it. He hadn’t just hallucinated that part. “Any chance of getting my clothes back?”
The medic’s eyes narrowed. “Why? You planning on wandering off too?”
“No, just cold.” It was only half a lie.
They looked unconvinced but nonetheless waved him towards the far end of the tent where washed bandages and items of clothing hung drying over a brazier.  
Dressing with cracked ribs was an ordeal, but it was hardly his first time. The clothes were mostly dry at least, save for his boots, but there was nothing he could do about that. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders as an extra layer against the cold and, when no one was looking, slipped out of the tent. 
He found Adaryc on the wall, spelling one of the sentries who had gone to join their fellows around the fires. The commander half stood, half slumped against the paling, exhaustion written in every line of his body, but at the crunch of snow underfoot he straightened sharply. 
“Elan –” He sounded surprised, but any trace of it was quickly replaced with earnest concern. “It’s good to see you back on your feet.”
“Just barely,” Elan admitted with a weary smile. 
“Does Marwyd know you’re out here?”
One of Elan’s brows twitched upwards and he cast a pointed glance at Adaryc’s bandaged head and the sling cradling his arm. “I could ask you the same question,” 
The corner of Adaryc’s mouth quirked. “I won’t tell them, if you don’t.”
They stood there for a moment in companionable silence, the low rumbling of a storm rolling up from the valley below. Behind them in the camp, the surviving members of the company not confined to the infirmary were celebrating their victory, the boisterous clamor muddling together in a comforting buzz, until a sudden outcry startled Elan back to alertness. He turned – they both did – hands reaching for weapons, the cold specter of the Eyeless – of that first night – brutally fresh in both their minds. But there was no threat, no looming shadow. The uproar crested and broke in a cascade of laughter. All was still well.  
He heard the quiet exhale of relief from Adaryc and smiled, “Sounds like they’re enjoying themselves.”
Adaryc’s gaze lingered on the chaotic scene, his face in that moment unguarded, watching the revelers with fierce affection. “They’ve earned it.”
“You’re not taking part?”
“I did, briefly. But I try to keep it short, give them their space.” He nodded towards the commotion, smile going crooked. “Particularly when non-regulation alcohol is involved. Not that I’d know anything about that, officially.” He shook his head.  “You should join them. They’d welcome it.”
Elan considered this briefly; he couldn’t deny the appeal of drinking himself numb after everything that had happened, but instead he found himself shrugging a little deeper into his makeshift cloak.  “I think I’ll stay out here a little longer, if that’s alright.” Adaryc looked at him in surprise, but quickly recovered. “Of course.” 
The conversation trailed off, but after a short while quietly watching the treeline, he asked, “What will you do now? Now that it’s over, I mean.”
Elan blinked. Over. It was over. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear someone else say it out loud. He breathed out a curse, his voice soft with amazement. “Hadn’t really thought this far ahead, if I’m honest. Wasn’t expecting to walk away from this one.” His brows knit as he considered the question. “Back to the Dyrwood, I suppose? See if Caed Nua’s still standing.”
“Your keep?”
Elan winced. “I, ah… It’s not really a keep. And it’s not mine. Just a ruin. And that’s not me being modest, it truly is a falling down pile of old stones. A very tall one, I’ll admit, but a ruin all the same. After…. after the whole mess with the Leaden Key, everyone went their separate ways. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so…. I started camping in one of the abandoned outbuildings. Some refugees from Defiance Bay turned up one day and decided to camp there too. Then a few more. Pretty soon they were patching up a couple of the outbuildings into proper shelters. Now they’re talking about tearing up the old overgrown hedge maze and planting, ah… something? Potatoes? Fuck knows. We’re all city folk down to our bones, so it’s bound to end in disaster.” He glanced at Adaryc, “What about you?”
Adaryc drew himself up a little straighter, a small, unconscious movement as if he were bracing himself. “Once the wounded are well enough to travel, we’ll return to Readceras. We’ll give the dead a proper burial. And – and their families need to be notified. And – ” He faltered, and for a moment he was not the Iron Flail Commander, he was just a man, exhausted beyond endurance, marking time in the bodies of friends whose deaths he had not yet had time to process let alone grieve. “And the Council will want a report,” he finished heavily, ramrod posture going slack. “Gods only know what they’ll make of all this. They think I’m half mad already.” There was a short, mirthless laugh and he shook his head. “I keep thinking that if I can just put it into words, that it will make sense, that the words will, I don’t know…..contain it somehow? But – ”
“But it just makes it worse?” Adaryc looked up sharply, his hollow eyes fixing Elan with a sudden intensity. It was the same despair, the same fractured sense of reality Elan had felt after Sun In Shadow and the realization felt like being kicked in the chest. The knowledge that someone else understood jarring against the knowledge that no one else should have to. 
“I don’t know,” Adaryc shook his head, dropping his gaze once more to his hands. “Is that blasphemy? Trying to confine the divine to mortal terms?”
Fatigue made every emotion feel like a struck match. There was no slow build, no moderation, just a dizzy binary of all or nothing. Elan’s face felt hot, anger flaring, not at Adaryc, but at the blinkered acceptance that was now expected of them after everything they had just been through. “Fuck the divine!”
Shock and hurt flashed across Adaryc’s face. “Elan – “
“It wasn’t the divine bleeding out on the ice today! How many people died just because Ondra didn’t want the world to see the giant damn skeleton in her closet? What kind of god is motivated by fear? They’re supposed to be better than us! Or else what’s the fucking point?”
“That’s not –” Adaryc broke off, his expression strained as if he were being pulled in a dozen directions at once. “I can’t pretend that I’m not – that what happened isn’t…. difficult … to come to terms with, but this can’t be – It’s a single example out of –”
“How many examples do you need?”
“How can you act like it’s so simple?” Adaryc fired back. “Our lives are a narrow window, a razor thin slit  through which we glimpse infinity. How can you possibly believe that there is nothing beyond your own experience?
“Are you calling me arrogant?”
“Is there another word for it?”
Elan bristled, voice rising in consternation, “How can you just accept it? How does it not make you angry?”
“Do not presume to tell me my own mind!” Adaryc snarled, raw emotions splashing across Elan like splatter from a wound. Shame, hurt, anger, confusion, the sense of smothering, the impression of a door slamming shut and a body braced against it, the partitioning of self. It left him reeling like a sharp backhand. 
Silence fell between them, the sudden contrast dousing both of them like a bucket of cold water,  leaving them flustered and shamefaced, and neither could quite meet the other’s eyes.
Elan shifted uncomfortably; he opened his mouth to say something, but it was Adaryc who spoke first. “I’m sorry. That was -”
“No. Don’t apologize.” Elan sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. “You were right. That wasn’t fair to you.”
“It wasn’t fair to you either. I – I don’t think  you’re arrogant.”
“Well, let’s not be hasty.”
The little huff of breath could almost have been a laugh. 
“Differences aside, I –” Adaryc hesitated, all his prickly awkwardness receding for a moment. He seemed strangely naked without it. “I envy your certainty.” 
The painful earnestness with which he said it caught Elan off guard. It felt like a confession, an admission of guilt, and he frowned, concern and confusion creasing his brow.
“Certainty has its flaws.” He had meant it as reassurance, but something in the words struck a nerve and Adaryc bristled, all sharp edges once more. 
“The lack of it is hardly a virtue!” he snapped, “Doubt is a sickness! A rot that must be cut out before it infects everything around us!”
“And certainty leads to assumptions,” Elan retorted, feeling is own temper flare again. “You know damn well how dangerous that can be in a fight!”
Adaryc flinched, his face flushing crimson. There were several heartbeats of uncomfortable silence and then, all at once, the fight seemed to go out of him. “I was certain about this mission,” he conceded bitterly. “Or at least… I performed certainty.” His hand twitched towards his belt where his sword hung – a different weapon from the one he’d carried that first night –  his expression pained. “I think the doubt was always there. But my men believed me. And I lead them into a fight we were utterly unprepared for. I imprisoned civilians – I risked starting the war I was supposed to be protecting us from!”
“Only because that Ondrite cultist escalated the – “
“Don’t!” Adaryc cut him off. “You do me no kindness by excusing my mistakes. I acted out of fear. There is no excuse for that.”
“But you were right!” Elan spluttered, “Alright, sure –  you fucked up with Stalwart, you made a mistake. But you were right about the vision, you were right about the attack, you were right about where it would happen. You were where you needed to be when you needed to be there, and you held the fucking line. Stalwart is still standing because you were here! You just got the details wrong because, shock of shocks, the goddess of secrets is a a cryptic fucking asshole!” 
Adaryc stared at him wide-eyed, for once too startled to argue, and then, to Elan’s surprise, he laughed – not a real laugh, there was no mirth in it, just overtaxed nerves and tension spilling over, but the rigid set of his shoulders relaxed the barest bit. 
There was another rumble from the storm in the valley, closer this time and Adaryc glanced at him, the tired shadow of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“I think she heard you.”
Elan’s face split into a grin.  “You worried she’ll smite the wrong Watcher?” 
“That’s not–”
But Elan was already taking a step back, face tilted skyward. Gods, he felt strange. He felt drunk, with exhaustion and pain and relief and the dizzy sense of connection to another person. “Ondra! Hey!” He shouted up at the night sky, ignoring the sharp stab of pain, and spread his good arm wide. “Take your best shot! I know we probably all look alike to you, so remember to aim for the mouthy Aedyran heretic, yeah?”
“What in Hel is wrong with you?” Adaryc yanked his arm down in alarm, pulling him off balance, and Elan stumbled into him laughing. 
The laughter hurt like hel, but he could handle the pain until the coughing set in. His body hunched, one arm curling around his ribs trying desperately to brace as each spasm sent agony knifing through his chest. Dark spots flickered in front of his eyes, and then his vision blacked out. His knees buckled, but he didn’t fall. 
“Fuck.” The word hissed between his teeth as the fit passed. He leaned into whatever it was that was keeping him from falling, drawing in shaky, shallow breaths. 
After a moment, his support shifted – carefully – and Adaryc’s face swam into focus, his brow furrowed with concern. “Elan?” 
“M’fine.” Effigy’s eyes, everything hurt. 
Adaryc’s eyes flicked upwards in exasperation. “You’re not one of my men, I can’t order you to go to the infirmary tent.”
“Probably for the best,” Elan croaked with a smile that was still half grimace, “Never been much good at taking orders.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
Adaryc released his arm, but neither of them made any attempt to move apart, only shifting to face outward towards the perimeter again, close enough to brush shoulders. They were quiet for a time after that, watching the dark silhouette of the tree line and listening to the offkey singing and laughter from the fort behind them. 
The minutes crept by and after a while Adaryc asked, “If not the gods, what do you have faith in?”
Elan’s shoulders tensed and he looked up, but there was no challenge in Adaryc’s face, only genuine and slightly puzzled curiosity. 
He didn’t answer right away. He had to fight down the urge to simply brush the question off; sincerity was vulnerability and vulnerability would get you killed, at the bare minimum it was an invitation for abuse. But….. 
But. 
“I don’t know.” He paused, frowning down at his hands. “I don’t say that to mean I’m above it, only that….. Well….” His mouth opened and shut several times. His hand brushed the sword at his side, nervously fingering its hilt like a talisman. “You saw enough of my soul to know that I’m no saint. I’ve made mistakes. A lot of them. Sometimes because I couldn’t see any right choices, and sometimes because I was running headlong towards the wrong ones. Faith and – and belief…. they can be a lot of things, I think. You could probably give me some real nice examples. And I’m not saying you’d be wrong. But they can be bad things too. A blindfold, a leash….puppet strings. In the wrong hands. And the choices I’ve made….Let’s just say there weren’t many kind hands around.” 
Elan drew in a shallow breath, shrugging – half-shrugging – uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Fire’s real pretty, but you can only get burned so many times, you know? Suppose there’s always this.” He glanced down at his hand still fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. “Always been able to count on a sharp piece of steel in my hand. Maybe that’s faith of a sort.” He hesitated, but the silence was worse than two back-to-back coughing fits. “Do you think that’s pathetic?” 
“No. I don’t,” Adaryc answered, his manner so earnestly serious it might have been comical under any other circumstance, but when Elan gathered the nerve to look up, he saw an echo of his own uncertainty in his face. “Do you think I’m naive?” “No.” Elan shook his head. “I know we don’t exactly see eye to eye on the gods, but… I don’t think that makes you naive. I just think you deserve better. And –” He broke off, fumbling awkwardly for the right words. “And your faith in your men, in what you’re doing, protecting your people…. I think I could believe in that.”
There were several beats of thoughtful silence. 
“I don’t suppose you’re looking to get back into mercenary work?” Adaryc ventured.
Elan looked up in surprise. “You really want to recruit the foreign heretic with authority issues?” he teased, “I’d be a thorn in your side and you know it. That’s not to say I take it lightly,” he added, smile faltering, “I – I don’t. No one’s, ah …. No one’s ever asked me to stay before.”
Adaryc was quiet for a moment, his hollow, fever bright eyes searching Elan’s face. “During the war, my first company…” he began, his gaze shifting to trace patterns in the snow at his feet. He spoke slowly and deliberately. “That was the first time in my life that I felt like I had a place anywhere. It’s part of why we formed the Iron Flail; when we got back home – the few of us who made it back –  we didn’t…. didn’t fit anymore. Except together.” He looked up then, meeting Elan’s eyes. “Consider it a standing offer.”
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