madimpossibledreamer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2025-03-03 11:54 am
madimpossibledreamer) wrote2025-03-03 11:54 am
Entry tags:
flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo
The neonazi vampire came out of nowhere and is especially ironic considering the Angel nazi sub episode…? But on the other hand I started rewatching a couple shows (blake’s 7, babylon 5, the movie RRR) to watch people fight fascism for reasons so maybe it’s not that unexpected
It’s also interesting seeing that both Travis and Blake keep going ‘everything is so primitive’ and from Travis it’s a definite insult and from Blake it’s more like an ‘objective value statement with no judgment attached’ and both are...not great. And Blake doesn’t even realize. Technology isn’t everything; you should have learned that at The Web, Blake.
Main Points:
Buffy/Blake's 7 (Place in the Universe)
Chapter Summary: Travis and Servalan try to find allies, weapons, and a base for their stay in Sunnydale.
Word Count: 880
Rating: Teen
It’s easy to lose yourself in obsession, to define yourself too heavily by one relationship or another. In opposition, in destruction, there’s a tendency to let it all consume you.
I didn’t understand then. Too close to see it, I think. I didn’t let arguments or warnings dissuade me, and forgot what little I had already known. And then, of course, I was desperate and didn’t care what happened to me, because I didn’t think I mattered.
Servalan does not permit herself to look nervous or glance back at him, unsure. She hadn’t been happy about the plan, but had seen the sense in it. She isn’t recognized by the young man in an obviously military uniform who answers the door, which is a mixed blessing. If she had been recognized as the Supreme Commander, that would have been the best case scenario, because it would have indicated this was a Federation world with easy backup and some sort of civilized communications. On the other hand, it also meant that she wasn’t recognized or taken prisoner, which would have been the worst case scenario, no matter how amusing or utterly satisfying it would have been in the moment.
This is, clearly, a backwater, primitive world, likely not brought into the Federation because they couldn’t be bothered. Nothing of strategic value here—well, not unless Blake actually happens to be here, in which case they will almost certainly find themselves at the tender mercies of the Federation.
Instead, her flirtations soon grow easy as her well-hidden nerves disappear. She is, of course, no more attached than she is to any of the other men she uses, seeing her beauty as a dispassionate (and probably occasionally pleasurable) tool to achieve her own ends, in a rather mercenary fashion. If you weren’t familiar with her, though, you could be forgiven for mistaking her charm for genuine interest, as the soldier certainly has. He is only glacially starting to budge on the thought of letting Servalan inside for some ‘fun activities’, though, and a second soldier, likely higher up in the chain of command, given the way he carries himself, has noticed. Time to alter strategy.
He moves into view. “You will let us inside,” he informs them. Servalan frowns at him for spoiling her fun.
“If you leave now, we won’t report this.” The superior officer isn’t going to budge, then.
“Let me rephrase.” He shoots the superior officer in the heart. The man falls over instantly as the first soldier watches, trembling and completely in shock. “You will let us come inside and use your facility.”
“I—um—” His hand incrementally starts moving to the primitive projectile gun.
Servalan puts a hand on that arm. “Be reasonable. Getting killed would accomplish very little, wouldn’t you agree?”
He moves a little out of the way, still shaking. He’s weak, probably never seen any combat.
“Excellent choice,” Servalan praises him, stroking his arm and stepping inside with a grace that suggests she’s had the authority to do so all along. Travis follows her, but a presence moving behind him distracts him, and he almost shoots the thing, only it’s holding its hands up in the traditional gesture of surrender.
It’s another of the creatures with fangs. Rather like a mutoid, if the accusations of vampirism were based on biological and not scientific fact. “Are you planning on killing anyone else?”
The question isn’t judgmental or mocking. It’s more curious and slightly hopeful. Likely, a fellow spirit.
“Anyone that gets in my way. We’re seeking a fugitive.” He’s got the man’s face on a data crystal but realizes sourly that it’s extremely unlikely primitive facilities like this would have anything to read one.
“Sounds like my kind of party. Sign me up. I’m Brandon.” He’d guessed correctly.
“Supreme Commander Servalan, of the Terran Federation. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” And then of course Brandon goes for the kiss on her hand, and she allows it like it happens all the time.
“Space Commander Travis.” Travis doesn’t even hold out his hand for a handshake, because it’s not relevant.
“Federation, huh. I prefer confederate, but I’m not that picky.” Travis and Servalan ignore the statement. It’s probably referring to local politics and history, which has nothing to do with them. “I can probably round up some fellow vampires, like the sewer gang, who would be interested. Spike might even change his stance if we can go after the Slayer.”
“Good. Do so,” Travis instructs.
Of course, Servalan has to undermine him in some way. She holds up her hand, halting the vampire. “And who is this...Slayer?”
“Vampire Slayer. Holier-than-thou, do-gooder, thinks she’s going to save the world. Nobody’s seen her in all this mess, which is a surprise, because it’s exactly the sort of thing she’d stick her nose in.” That kind of relish indicates an enmity that Travis knows intimately.
Travis and Servalan exchange glances, both thinking the same thing that Servalan actually voices. “That sounds like exactly the sort of person Blake would ally himself with. A man with curly hair. Bring him back alive, if you find him; I want to confirm his death.”
And Travis will be the man to kill him, whether or not Servalan actually wishes it.
It’s also interesting seeing that both Travis and Blake keep going ‘everything is so primitive’ and from Travis it’s a definite insult and from Blake it’s more like an ‘objective value statement with no judgment attached’ and both are...not great. And Blake doesn’t even realize. Technology isn’t everything; you should have learned that at The Web, Blake.
Main Points:
Buffy/Blake's 7 (Place in the Universe)
Chapter Summary: Travis and Servalan try to find allies, weapons, and a base for their stay in Sunnydale.
Word Count: 880
Rating: Teen
It’s easy to lose yourself in obsession, to define yourself too heavily by one relationship or another. In opposition, in destruction, there’s a tendency to let it all consume you.
I didn’t understand then. Too close to see it, I think. I didn’t let arguments or warnings dissuade me, and forgot what little I had already known. And then, of course, I was desperate and didn’t care what happened to me, because I didn’t think I mattered.
Servalan does not permit herself to look nervous or glance back at him, unsure. She hadn’t been happy about the plan, but had seen the sense in it. She isn’t recognized by the young man in an obviously military uniform who answers the door, which is a mixed blessing. If she had been recognized as the Supreme Commander, that would have been the best case scenario, because it would have indicated this was a Federation world with easy backup and some sort of civilized communications. On the other hand, it also meant that she wasn’t recognized or taken prisoner, which would have been the worst case scenario, no matter how amusing or utterly satisfying it would have been in the moment.
This is, clearly, a backwater, primitive world, likely not brought into the Federation because they couldn’t be bothered. Nothing of strategic value here—well, not unless Blake actually happens to be here, in which case they will almost certainly find themselves at the tender mercies of the Federation.
Instead, her flirtations soon grow easy as her well-hidden nerves disappear. She is, of course, no more attached than she is to any of the other men she uses, seeing her beauty as a dispassionate (and probably occasionally pleasurable) tool to achieve her own ends, in a rather mercenary fashion. If you weren’t familiar with her, though, you could be forgiven for mistaking her charm for genuine interest, as the soldier certainly has. He is only glacially starting to budge on the thought of letting Servalan inside for some ‘fun activities’, though, and a second soldier, likely higher up in the chain of command, given the way he carries himself, has noticed. Time to alter strategy.
He moves into view. “You will let us inside,” he informs them. Servalan frowns at him for spoiling her fun.
“If you leave now, we won’t report this.” The superior officer isn’t going to budge, then.
“Let me rephrase.” He shoots the superior officer in the heart. The man falls over instantly as the first soldier watches, trembling and completely in shock. “You will let us come inside and use your facility.”
“I—um—” His hand incrementally starts moving to the primitive projectile gun.
Servalan puts a hand on that arm. “Be reasonable. Getting killed would accomplish very little, wouldn’t you agree?”
He moves a little out of the way, still shaking. He’s weak, probably never seen any combat.
“Excellent choice,” Servalan praises him, stroking his arm and stepping inside with a grace that suggests she’s had the authority to do so all along. Travis follows her, but a presence moving behind him distracts him, and he almost shoots the thing, only it’s holding its hands up in the traditional gesture of surrender.
It’s another of the creatures with fangs. Rather like a mutoid, if the accusations of vampirism were based on biological and not scientific fact. “Are you planning on killing anyone else?”
The question isn’t judgmental or mocking. It’s more curious and slightly hopeful. Likely, a fellow spirit.
“Anyone that gets in my way. We’re seeking a fugitive.” He’s got the man’s face on a data crystal but realizes sourly that it’s extremely unlikely primitive facilities like this would have anything to read one.
“Sounds like my kind of party. Sign me up. I’m Brandon.” He’d guessed correctly.
“Supreme Commander Servalan, of the Terran Federation. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” And then of course Brandon goes for the kiss on her hand, and she allows it like it happens all the time.
“Space Commander Travis.” Travis doesn’t even hold out his hand for a handshake, because it’s not relevant.
“Federation, huh. I prefer confederate, but I’m not that picky.” Travis and Servalan ignore the statement. It’s probably referring to local politics and history, which has nothing to do with them. “I can probably round up some fellow vampires, like the sewer gang, who would be interested. Spike might even change his stance if we can go after the Slayer.”
“Good. Do so,” Travis instructs.
Of course, Servalan has to undermine him in some way. She holds up her hand, halting the vampire. “And who is this...Slayer?”
“Vampire Slayer. Holier-than-thou, do-gooder, thinks she’s going to save the world. Nobody’s seen her in all this mess, which is a surprise, because it’s exactly the sort of thing she’d stick her nose in.” That kind of relish indicates an enmity that Travis knows intimately.
Travis and Servalan exchange glances, both thinking the same thing that Servalan actually voices. “That sounds like exactly the sort of person Blake would ally himself with. A man with curly hair. Bring him back alive, if you find him; I want to confirm his death.”
And Travis will be the man to kill him, whether or not Servalan actually wishes it.