#I am very much mentally hinged do not fear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

socially-awkward-skeleton · 11 months

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tagged by : @aceghosts (thank you so much!!)

tagging: @wrathfulrook @anonymousmalkavian @fourlittleseedlings @harmonyowl @mccarthycormac @mxanigel @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @trench-rot @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @statichvm @neverthesameneveranother @sukoshimikan @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @poetikat @fangsandroses @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt

writing tag list here to be added/removed

Back to working on American Beasts, and I am in the thick of Kit meeting Carter and Quinn for the first time. (warnings for mentions of death/ animal death, and Kit's general mental health):

The sprawling wilderness of evergreen trees carried on around Kit in all directions with no sign of stopping. Clinging to the trunks of the trees, she moved forward at a careful crawl, trying to keep her energy from depleting further. Plodding forward, her boots melted into the mossy carpet below her feet, comforting like a mattress she could topple onto. She could close her weary eyes and rest. Just a short rest…

Pain stabbed through her and her knees began to buckle. She was a crushed soda can, the contents of her pouring out of the wound in her chest. Barking out dry, ragged coughs into the frigid air, clawing at her chest, desperate to rip the bullet from herself like an animal with stitches, chewing despite the harm it would do. Blood caught under her nails. She remembered hearing about other vets taking to meth when they came home as a way to deal with the pain and the nightmares, only to be burdened with imaginary bugs crawling under their skin, picking and scratching away at themselves to get the insects out. She understood that feeling now. Understood that fear. She was burning alive. God, it felt like her skin was on fire as the bullet lodged itself deeper inside, searching out the warm, dark places of her – if she wasn’t slowly dying from it, she might have laughed – her heart was certainly a fitting place as the lead seeped throughout her flesh, poisoning her.

Her thoughts began to drift, survival still very much on the tip of her tongue as she started to replay Jacob’s speeches in her head. Humans were born with an innate sense of survival. Fight or flight. Her whole life she had lived with these apparent laws in her head, the same laws her father had instilled in her. Survival was something she knew intimately about. It defined her, a characteristic of who she was, something brought to the surface when most others became soft and learned to ignore what had been programmed into them over millions of years of evolution. The fear of snakes, spiders and sharks bred into the DNA. She was an anomaly. Most people didn’t go running into fire, they didn’t search out the danger the way she did. She faced it headlong, determined to make it bow to her, it was like she couldn’t feel it. Her brain muted the fear, quieting the sense that would have made her stop if she were a reasonable person.

Yet more things left broken inside her.

Crumpling to her knees, the blood rushing from her head, Kit could feel the world spinning around her, all one thousand miles per hour of it. Her breaths leaked out in gasps, hitching in her throat before her lungs would deflate again. Vision tunneling…seeing in black and white…pinpricks of light scattered before her eyes, a universe coming into being as everything went dark. Her whole chest cavity about to implode. All she had left to run on was instinct, her senses failing as they shut down around her.

This was the end.

But like a zombie, her body carried on, searching out the path back home. It had no compass, no map, it wandered aimlessly. Survival hinged on her giving in, succumbing, relying on the hands of her maker to guide her. Like Moses through the desert she wandered, her weary mind unable to detect even East from West using what little of the sun was left. Her feet would carry her, one step in front of the other. Marching. Forever marching. As if it were fated for her to never settle.

The spongy layer of top soil and black earth she was sure she would fall into and be buried by, left to rot for all time, gave way to gravel. The distinct crunch pulled her to reality like a tether, tying her to the here and the now. She stared down at her boot, the toe scuffed and worn, caked with mud and beaded with rain water. Kit had walked for miles on end, into the silence that consumed the mountains and created its own plane of existence. One where she had been free to become a beast, to bleed out the sins of others, punishing them before the new world came crashing down upon the county. She looked up and the gravel hadn’t appeared without sense, it had purpose. Dotted with wilted flowers, frozen and thawed so many times they had become brown and rotten, the petals blackened with mold, a pathway led forward. There was a break in the trees…

…there was a house.

–

A shadow passed the window. A creeping thing, it’s visage unseen, but the shiver still crept down Carter’s spine. He’d been warned by his parents about the people that lived on that little island and about that old hospital at the top of the mountain. He’d read Jack and the Beanstalk and he knew about the evil giant at the top of it. He had read about the big, bad wolf and how he ate little children who went off the path. Fairy tales had become reality these last few months, especially once their father, the hunter, never came back home. He was the one meant to cut open the wolf’s stomach and pull the children out in the end. Not end up eaten as well. A cautionary tale gone wrong.

The howling of the wolves and the cries of cougars rang out as the night began to fall and the temperature dropped even further. He and Quinn were wrapped in quilts trying to stay warm together on their parents’ bed, their fingers chilled to the point of being pink and sore, their breath escaping them in a fog inside their little wooden home. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could last. Carter knew about death, he’d grown up with it from the family farm they once had, to hunting with his father. He’d even had a pet hamster, Mr. Chippy, who didn’t last more than a year. He knew that sometimes things had to die so others could live, he knew that sometimes the heart just gave out. He wondered if it hurt when it happened the way everything seemed to now. His stomach, his body, the cramps and the cold. He wondered whether they’d ever even be found. The cat they had when he was barely older than Quinn wasn’t until they smelled it weeks later, having crawled under the house to die. Is that what they would smell like too, or would it be so cold they’d be covered in frost like the elk steaks in the freezer?

He pulled Quinn a little closer to him and listened to the wind whisper through the house. There were times it would wake him in the night, after he’d dream of his mother, imagining it was her voice. Believing for half an instant that his wishes had come true and she’d come back to them. To save them. But ever since that birthday where he’d wished for a bike and ended up alone in the woods with his sister, he’d learned not to put much faith into wishes.

There was a knock outside, someone had crossed the trip wire his father had set up so long ago now. It wasn’t a shadow, it was a nightmare. A prowler. The monster in the dark had come to get them. Finally.

“Quinn, you gotta listen to me, okay?” She looked up at him, her lower lip trembling as she pulled the covers tighter around herself, shaking uncontrollably. “You gotta get under the bed, and you have to be real quiet. Can you do that?”

“Whatsamatter?”

“Just listen to me.” He slipped off the bed and pulled back the ruffle sheet that draped over the frame, hiding the floor underneath it. “Come on Quinny, you gotta do as I say.”

“No.”

They didn’t have time for this. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, determined to keep her safe. His jaw went stiff and he leaned down towards her, lowering his voice. “The boogeyman is coming.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, her irises bleeding into the inky depths of her pupils.

“He’s gonna get ya. Do it!”

She crawled off the bed, dragging the blanket with her. Sliding under the bed frame, clutching Cookie Monster as she pulled the quilt over her head to hide.

“Whatever you hear, whatever happens, don’t come out. Promise me.”

“Promise,” she whimpered, holding back tears through choked breaths.

“Good.” He dropped the ruffle sheet and pulled open his father’s sock drawer, grabbing the old revolver shoved at the back. It was heavy, heavier than he had expected. He’d spent many an afternoon just staring at it. He knew well enough not to touch it, even when the urge to reared its head. His dad had told him never to play with guns, they weren’t toys, they were weapons. Holding one meant you aimed to kill.

Pulling the sheet back once more, Carter crawled in under the bed beside Quinn. Laying there, he clasped his hand over her mouth to help keep her quiet. There could be no mistakes, no do overs. If this was the men with crosses, if they were found, it would be the end.

#wip wednesday #american beasts #chapter 49 #oc: kit cross #oc: carter seed #oc: quinn seed #(eventually they'll be seeds)#far cry 5

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ginnymoonbeam · 1 year

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Was chatting with friends about The Eighth Sense and what we expect from the ending, which got me onto a broader ramble about genre and expectations. For me, a key defining feature of BL is that whether the ending is "good" or "bad" depends on whether a couple is happily together at the end of the story. (Going forward, I'm going to use up/down instead of good/bad or happy/sad to describe endings: in brief, an up ending fulfills hopes while a down ending realizes fears. I like these terms better because they don't imply value or a specific emotional state in the audience - they go purely to story structure.)

For a BL, an up ending requires that the characters be together at the end. Other queer stories don't, necessarily - a queer coming-of-age story might have a romance that changes the protagonist but ultimately ends, and the story may still have an up ending. A BL can also have a down ending (which makes it different from genre romance, where it has to have an up ending or it isn't a romance.) 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us is a queer story that isn't a BL, because from pretty early in the story it was clear that an up or down ending was not going to hinge on whether In and Wang got together. (Whether the ending of 180 Degrees is up or down or neither is a question for another day.)

Back to The Eighth Sense. Here are some examples of primary genres The Eighth Sense isn't, although it takes elements from them and they could have been the primary genre with some shifts in narrative emphasis. It isn't a coming-of-age story centering Jihyun. If it were, we would know more by now about where he comes from, what has held him back thus far from expressing himself/living boldly/being the adult he's becoming. We would have had more intense ups and downs around those questions, and we would be set up with some key symbolic trials for him to pass at the climax of the story.

It isn't a trauma recovery story centering Jaewon - although that's a very strong secondary genre. If it were the primary genre, we would be leaning much more heavily on Jaewon's POV, or that of other characters witnessing him. As it is, Jihyun and Jaewon are given about equal POV time, and I can't recall a single other character whose perspective we enter at all. (That right there is a big clue that we're in a romance.)

The relationship between them affects Jaewon's mental health, and Jaewon's mental health affects the relationship, but you can tell which one is primary by which came first. We got signs of Jaewon's struggles very early, but we weren't grounded in them - they were hints and mysteries, not a starting point. We were grounded, from the first meeting, in the mutual attraction between Jaewon and Jihyun. We knew exactly what that was about, and we started assessing other pieces of the story in light of how they might impact the growth of the relationship, rather than assessing the budding relationship in light of how it might hurt or help either character.

All of which is to say: The Eighth Sense is structurally a BL, and I don't see any way to an up ending that doesn't include Jaewon and Jihyun at least beginning to come together (again.) And I do think we're set up for an up ending, because the story is at a down point now at the 3/4 mark. So I for one am going into tomorrow's episodes fully optimistic.

#the eighth sense #bl drama #ginny nerds out on narrative

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funeralprocessor · 1 month

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ꙮ

I always feel so disjointed from everyone else because of how shitty and turbulent my life has been. My early life was super abusive and just sort of broke me in a lot of ways to the point I never bothered to have ambitions. Or dreams. Or Identity. Because I was definitely going to kill myself *eventually* right? it felt inevitable for basically the entirety of my life I remember and I was in the environment that made me that way, around the people who did. until I was in my early twenties

Then I was basically homeless for a bit, at least surfing some very unstable and unsavory couches. When I eventually stabilized I still wasn't much of a person. I still was sort of consigned to suicide as an inevitability because nothing felt worth anything. I felt like there was no hope for me. The people who kicked me out were basically it as far as family went so beyond my very tenuous social network I had *nothing*and was in the middle of Appalachia. The bad part.My hometown had a landmark with a racial slur if that tells you anything

Anyway, all of that to say I wasn't exactly in a great place mentally,physically or geographically, and I'd done basically nothing with my entire life. Not just in terms of actual progress or potential I wasn't living up to or whatever but like no life experience. Very few friendships, no romance and some unresolved issues that made even contemplating it feel like drinking nuclear sewage, I'd never gone anywhere or done anything. I had no skills or talents beyond apparently being *very* good at running tabletop which isn’t a particularly viable thing to hinge your existence on.

I was terrified of expressing myself in basically any way because I didn't want to appear cringe or gay or whatever else would get me mocked. I had learned long ago to survive by leaning into largeness and perceived intimidatingness but also making myself small and beneath notice. Someone you don’t notice but don’t want to mess with if you do. But it sort of dovetailed with my dysphoria and my trauma and my horrible nightmarish body image issues (thanks mom) and mutated into this debilitating anxiety and disgust and shame towards myself and especially my body.

I felt like this hollow shell of a person that didn't really experience the world so much as go through the motions so people assume they do, and I lived like that for a long, long time. I didn’t go to college until like 25-26, and only once I was out of that environment was I able to even begin to unravel the knotted mass of scar tissue and thorns that is my psyche. I was basically held together by stress and tension, so I had to fall apart to begin rebuilding. I didn’t really make any headway on the gender thing until I was fucking 30, not because it didn’t hurt but because everything did and it was so hard to distinguish one thread of agony from another.

I feel incredibly old and harrowed and also like I’ve barely lived. I relate to no one, belong nowhere. Among my younger friends I feel like a decrepit ghost, something haunts the discord servers and groupchats to mournfully observe the living but never to be like them. People my own age talk to me about their achievements and their attachments and I try my best to hide that I am naught but the palest shade compared to them, a void where a life would have gone in a kinder world. I want so desperately to live but I don’t think I’ve ever actually done it and at this point I fear it’s too late.

#corpseposting #since apparently there are tag limits these days #also going to be using ꙮ in place of . for these

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ilovehotnights · 3 months

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so basically does anyone even fucking like me

time to whine time to shine time to rhyme. I love my brain because of the stuff that comes out of it, and I also hate it in equal measure for the very same reason. I always leave the hang or sign off the group chat and wonder if anyone even fucking likes me. My therapist says I'm codependent and I have toxic shame. But my life is honestly fab so idk where that even comes from, would like for it to crust up and fall off like a scab—revealing the true and awesome me that lies underneath. Is that my problem? That I believe that under the shit there lies a great, shiny person, a person who cannot be embraced until they can reach their true and beautiful potential? I'm so bored of the way I think. I just want it to go away and I can choose from a list of all quality traits that a person can have and live the rest of my life with those traits, rather than having to learn from that ones I have and evolve naturally. Can AI do that? My kids won't have toxic shame that I pass down to them because by the time I have my test-tube baby in 20 years I'll be able to choose for them to have no mental illness or hang ups and they will be smart and not have trouble focusing their energy into the things they care about, it will come so naturally to them. And there will be no toxic shame that talks them down for pursuing their passions on a daily basis. I know I am capable of change though for god sakes my whole life has changed in a year. Crazy is last year I didn't want a boyfriend and now I want one so fucking bad. That means I will have to wait another year to get one if the universe is doing what I think it's gonna do. Which again, it never does. Anyways, my ex has a girlfriend. Boooooo. Lame af. But hope they're happy and I mean it. I want to keep doing my thing though. As much as a boyfriend sounds nice, I'm not fully cooked yet. And tbh, when I have a BF I become so focused on what they think of me there is no room for me to pursue what I care about. What I care about is another topic that confounds me. When I think about what I want to be there is currently 2 camps. 1 is song writer. The other is writer. The other is singer songwriter.

Idk if this stuff is out of reach, I fear that it is and that's why I have never tried. I used to write poetry in HS and then I took a hiatus for 10 years to focus on being a codependent girlfriend and then slut for a few months. Being both of those things should have given me fuel artistically but my heads so far up my ass, and so deep in my instagram feed that I don't do anything creatively for pleasure now. I have been saying this for years. Part of me truly believes living with my parents and being alone for awhile will open me up artistically. I don't hope that I'm sad, but I hope that if I do get sad, instead of scrolling hinge while listening to tiktoks about how men are ruining the world, I could write a creative story or a poem or draw my cat doing something cute. Or plan a trip. And instead of listening to how all men suck I should go up to the guy I can't take my eyes off of at the grocery store instead of pretending I don't see him every time he looks up at me. I should probably also just have fun. and stop being so hard on my every move and others, because I think I want to have fun for awhile and. want to welcome that into my life more and want to welcome new kinds of people into my life.

Online dating is such a trap. It's a numbers game ad you have to participate to get dates. I am so tired. I just want to meet him inn real life. i would like a slow burn exciting fun amazing beautiful relationship with someone who is really inspiring to me.

But anyways, probs won't happen. I just DO NOT want to meet someone in Houston. I am not getting stuck there again. If I was to meet someone there he would have to be there impermanently and have plans to move somewhere badass after.

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magsmapsmtl · 1 year

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Gilded Cage | November 14, 2014

[...] Some might like to think of it as having demons, and others would agree in saying that my right brain is just fighting with my left. What is to be made of both sides losing?

(CW: Mental illness, self deletion)

Well. Here I am. Between a rock and a hard place. Between myself and the world. Between my head and my heart. Seemingly opposite agents and yet…

Here I am. On the fence between objectivity and subjectivity. Between justice and forgiveness. Between the past and the future.

It’s a funny thing when you come to the realization that, your whole life you've been trying to stay balanced, but never once fought. When you fell, you took a while to get back up because you believed you deserved it.

Fighting isn't something I do. I know what I believe in, but I hardly recall ever having to fight for it because I simply did not possess the time or patience. I didn't always know my worth, and at times I would allow myself to disappear to allow others to thrive. Now I'm getting a better feel of my worth as a person, but somehow, I still find myself not fighting for anyone. I used to expect people to get it the first time around or leave me alone. I didn't have time for second chances because I never wanted to be that person again, the doormat taken for granted. When it even came to my own life, I was neither hot nor cold. For the longest time I only feared dying as opposed to death itself: if I was sick, I prepared for the worst; if I had eaten something questionable, I assumed I lived a good life. And for the longest time, I had already contemplated how I’d take my own life, if it ever came to that; only the universe knows…

I've always made it a point in my more personal art to show my inner dualities. But not this time.

This is my lived reality.

Some might like to think of it as having demons, and others would agree in saying that my right brain is just fighting with my left.

What is to be made of both sides losing?

For the first time, I truly feel like I'm fighting for something, because I finally said to myself “I deserve this. I deserve a chance at things being okay.” So far I've lost all the battles, and the war may becoming to an end soon, one way or another. It’s made me see just how much balance I lack.

I am the sole entity responsible for my survival. I am the only one who can weigh me down while still hinged to my anxiety. My arms, weak from carrying the ball chained to my leg, represent my psyche dwindling in the midst of maintaining sanity. Should the ball over the edge, I have two choices: prop myself back up while letting myself suffer from misplaced anxious weight, or let my entire self go while my neck is still chained to what is supposed to keep me from falling into the void.

I never pick fights. But here I am fighting just to get my ass beat again. I'm used to not coming out victorious.

But I’d very much like to stay alive.

"You don't have to be afraid You don't even have to be brave Living in a gilded cage The only risk is that you'll go insane"

#personal #abstract #collage #mental health

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dionysianfreak · 2 years

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looking for a second opinion here. for about a year, year and a half maybe? i think year and a half... i have been worshipping apollo and artemis. now, it took a lot of convincing for me to do this; i was interested in witchcraft, vaguely interested in paganism, and apollo basically had to slap me into realizing the path i needed to be on.

i feel like i have not stabilized my worship of them enough yet... if that makes sense? my worship can sometimes be intermittent as my mental health and workload waxes and wanes, and i've put many other facets of my practice on the wayside telling myself i need to get myself "better" at worshipping the twins. i have not so much as prayed to any other deity...

but lately, the signs from athena have been very very strong. since i was somewhat afraid, i said a few weeks ago that i was honored but didn't believe i was ready for her presence in my life. now i feel that may have been the wrong choice. i've erected a small (very, very small) altar on my bookshelf for her, and when i say small i mean two little owl figurines, a tea light, and a little cup. but i haven't poured libation or lit the candle yet. i'm still very nervous about forming a relationship with any new deity, as i worry that i haven't strengthened my bonds with artemis and apollo yet.

while i don't expect anyone to look inside my mind and my relationship with the theoi and know exactly what to say, i was wondering what you thought on the matter. i don't want to jump gungho into expanding my practice when it can still sometimes be overwhelming simply to give attention to apollo and artemis and i worry adding another deity to my life will be too much. yet at the same time, i love athena and am very honored that she wants to be present in my life. do you have any kind of two cents?

situations like this are a very good time to remember that sometimes things just aren't that serious. i think that abrahamic religions have cast a sense of urgency into religious air; the idea that we must bend over backwards for the Gods if we decide to engage with Them. that engaging in religion is a devotion of EVERYTHING, your way of life and being. it is the idea that we must commit hours of time and commit ourselves in some way. this is a very fear-based idea because it hinges on the idea that Gods are angered or turned off when this standard is not met. in reality, especially in polytheist religions, this is the opposite of how most engaged with the Theoi. worship was intertwined with daily life and it was often casual or exchange-based. the Gods aren't these "big brother" commanders who come and need your everything. the Gods are supporters who are there to guide and protect you whenever you need.

if we put it into perspective, the Theoi are undying beings forming relationships with beings whose forms are painfully temporary, whose time is severely limited. we only have the time we are granted to experience things as humans. that's a whole lot of stuff to fit into a speck in time. the Gods don't care if our worship slows, or if it's few and far between. that only means that we're indulging in or working hard to exist in the world They've given us. in my opinion, living the life we were given and appreciating it is the most sacred form of worship out there.

so, don't worry about your worship being intermittent. dont worry about not having a strong enough relationship. don't put pressure on yourself to commit to anything. don't put pressure on yourself to fulfill every word the Theoi speak. if you'd like to wait for Athene, then tell Her so. if you'd like to worship Her, then being to do so. She is an extremely patient and level-headed Goddess in my experience, so a change of mind shouldn't be a problem especially if you feel the other choice is best. it's good to remember it is NEVER disrespectful to tell a God no, and especially not disrespectful to communicate that you changed your mind. hell, if you decide again that you want to wait then just tell Her ! if it becomes too much, spread your worship out more. having a shrine period is an act of admiration that the Gods will appreciate always.

so tldr; it isn't that serious. you can worship whatever you feel like, whenever you feel like, as often as you feel like. the Theoi aren't going anywhere and are here to support and guide the earth & its inhabitants. I'm sure Athene will be overjoyed that you changed your mind, and I'm sure the twins adore every moment you spend thinking about Them. you should always worship in the way that's best for you in the way that brings you the most joy and comfort.

all you ever need to keep the Theoi happy is a love for Them and a drive to give to Them, even if reality gets in the way sometimes. i wish you so much luck and an abundance of comfort with Athene, She is a wonderful WONDERFUL Goddess

#anon #ask #athene #artemis #apollon #helpol #hellenism #theoi

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creacherkeeper · 3 years

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im getting a little too in my family feels today and so INSTEAD of feeling those im just going to ramble for a second about why i fucking love paladin!aelwyn because. im. just like this i guess im coping leave me alone

cw for discussions of child abuse, maladaptive coping, drugs and alcohol, self harm, destructive tendencies, basically everything we see in canon and the implications

aelwyn is ... SO interesting to me because for as much of her interiority as we see, as much of her as we think we understand, as much as i could ramble about her character for hours, we know ALMOST NOTHING about her in actuality?? (besides ... one key thing)

(this is like 2k and probably incoherent someone please stop me)

okay. listen. almost everything we see aelwyn do in s1 is maladaptive rebellion against her parents and home life. the drinking, the drugs, the partying, perhaps some of kalvaxus (though i dont think we fully understand how much of that was forced on her as well, kalina WAS watching her when she was talking to adaine about it). you can say like, oh aelwyn is a party animal, she's impulsive, she makes risky decisions, she's bitchy and rude, and its like. okay but IS SHE ACTUALLY. because under her parents thumb she had an EXTREMELY limited amount of freedom, and usually when people are suffering from very little control over their life, they WILL act destructively over the tiny bit they can, either harming themselves or their environment or people lower than them in the pecking order, because in a way, that feels like a reclamation of autonomy. saying "you have so much power over me but can you stop me from hurting myself and destroying what you havent managed to claim yet?". its just like, kind of what human brains do and frequently has little to do with a persons actual personality or impulses, its just. desperate brains trying to control SOMETHING because autonomy is a fundamental human need and when thats taken away we get. very bad off. (this is one big reason eating disorders are SO common with abused kids.) so i think a lot of the s1 aelwyn we see is like. this is a very desperate, abused teenager "acting out" in the only way it is possibly somewhat safe for her to do so because, on a psychological level, the self destruction is weirdly the only emotional tether and its either this or just dissociate all the time (something we do see she has problems with in canon)

and yes, she did treat adaine horribly in s1. she fully did. obviously what we get in canon is what happens but a moment thats interesting to me is in episode 1 where adaine has attacked aelwyn several times, who either does nothing or just bounces it back, when she says "i never cast spells at you" and siobhan immediately retcons it and says "yes you do, all the time" (i havent gone back and watched this bit so i might be wording this wrong). obviously its an improv show and the canon is built between performers as they go, but that was interesting to me. that brennan hadnt intended for her to have fought back in that way. she definitely feeds into the emotional abuse from their parents and participates in all the toxicity there, but we know in canon that she did that because of overwhelming fear and self preservation. and that her self hatred because of it just fed back into the cycle and made her feel like she wasnt good enough to even try to break free from it. this is very common in golden child/scapegoat sibling relationships where the golden child SEES what the parents are capable of and becomes a participant in the abuse out of fear for their own standing. in any way siding with the scapegoat child not only directs abuse at themselves as well, but frequently makes things WORSE for the scapegoat because the parents will take out the challenge to their power on them even more. so, if aelwyn DID ever try to defend or help adaine when they were small, she would have VERY QUICKLY learned that made things worse for everyone. and just. sectioned that part of her brain off, as she's done with so many other things. (and i dont think im reading too much into the forest scene with the abernants to say their parents were VERY QUICK to turn abuse towards aelwyn if she stepped out of line even a little. like, you dont flinch when a hand moves unless. you know. dont need to say it just something to think about. as far as we saw in canon, she had done everything they asked of her leading up to the forest, and we DONT KNOW what happened in it but we do know brennan specifically called out how in broken spirits she was when adaine was summoned, even though they did the ritual to avoid all of the nightmare bullshit)

(the house party is literally a whole separate post but i think its fair to point out that 1) she was super under the influence when that was happening which DEFINITELY is in no way an excuse for her behavior but worth remembering when trying to analyze that 2) her losing that fight did canonically have DRASTIC consequences for her and even if she didnt know exactly how that was going to turn out, i think she knew how bad it might be. and she did not know adaine or any of the bad kids were going to be there in the first place)

all that said, it feels in some ways counterproductive to say that aelwyn is an extremely devoted and protective person (yes we're getting to the paladin shit i know i've been rambling a while) but i think that thats strangely ALL WE ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT HER. because we've established that her self-destructive and abusive behavior in s1 is almost entirely psychologically scripted for her by her parents, we dont know how much of her villain shit in s1 was LITERALLY UNDER THREAT OF DEATH because we know at least killing the oracle was and we dont know how much of the rest of it was mandated by either her parents or kalina other than that she probably was under orders not to tell adaine the truth, and we know participating in all of this caused extreme self loathing in her that she refused to show to anybody and was too terrified to act on in any way

so, like. what does that actually leave us?

here's what we do know about aelwyn:

- of all the schools of magic, she went into abjuration

- the entire bbeg plan from season 1 hinged on aelwyn's complete faith that her level 1 sister was the most prodigious diviner in the world

- right after (?) the house party, she locked her memories where only adaine could find it with a note basically saying "theres so much bad blood between us but i know only you could find this"

- she desperately wanted to protect adaine and the fact that she was too afraid to do so made her hate herself (and her knowing that adaine now knows this is the turning point in their relationship)

- despite everything, even in the nmk forest, she still loved her parents

- the SECOND she is shown genuine love and affection and care from adaine, and adaine says whatever you do, i am here with you, all her actions from there forward are just about protecting adaine from their father, very nearly at the cost of her own life

- with what she probably thought were her last words (and would have been if adaine hadnt given her the tincture), all she wanted to communicate was how to help adaine and the bad kids, and how despite everything she had always believed in her

- at five levels of exhaustion, unconscious, she used her first spell slot after nine months of torture to build a shield around adaine

NOW we get to paladin!aelwyn. because, once everything is stripped away, the abuse and the control and the maladaption and the threats and the torture, EVERYTHING we ACTUALLY can glean about aelwyn's personality and inner core is that she's protective and devoted. and of course classes arent locked by personality, but that just screams paladin to me. its her WHOLE THING. adaine even says "wizards dont have heals, we dont care about other people" and of COURSE that isnt true for either of them, but? mechanically? aelwyn chose the wizard school that DID let her protect, and DID let her help, but i dont think, at this point, going forward, thats really going to be enough for her (and we could also talk about the parallels between them, how often adaine uses her portents to help other people)

i think a lot of the different reads on aelwyn come from this fundamental disconnect between her actions and displayed personality vs who she actually is and what she actually wants. and i think there are very different interpretations of what thats going to look like for her going forward. but i think, for a girl who's most hated characteristic about herself was her self preservation at the detriment of others, her perceived selfishness, and her fear ... isn't choosing to be braver and more selfless and more protective and shedding that self-preserving instinct for the betterment of others ... and MECHANICALLY being able to act on all those things ... the logical next step? i think its going to be a LONG TIME before aelwyn can love herself, but what other way is there to try? if adaine loves her, and adaine believes she can be better, isnt being better because she trusts adaine kind of a form of self love? saying, i dont believe in myself, but i believe in the person who believes in me, and maybe, in a roundabout way, thats the same thing. she was never able to TRY to be better before, because trying to improve even a little, even when people arent watching, when a harmful force has so much power over you and your actions ... like, the mental dissonance is honestly TOO much to even try, thats WAY more terrifying than letting yourself be bad, to the point where thats psychologically impossible for a lot of people. but now she actually has space and freedom and CHOICE and she CAN embrace the instincts she always had to shove down, she CAN be the person she knows her sister needed her to be

i dont know, i think theres an inherent love letter to yourself in wanting to be better and wanting to improve, even if you justify it by saying its for someone else. and now aelwyn actually CAN improve, and thats probably going to be extremely awkward and scary and there will be set backs and backslides for sure. but. i dont know. i think she wants to make up for lost time. because she never wanted the time to be lost in the first place. and if a protector is who she always wanted to be, whats stopping her from being that now?

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #aelwyn abernant #WHO LET ME WRITE ALL THIS #does this even. fucking. make sense. who knows.#THE BRAINROT THE BRAINROT THE BRAINROT

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years

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I wish you would do a fic during world war 2 timeline where the reader is running away from germany to switzerland and faints in the middle of a small stable. Maybe a certain Swiss comes along in the morning to let his goats out to graze when he sees you???? (Sorry! I am not good at this and I am simply dying for this man right now ugh)

I don’t think this is quite what either of us had in mind Lovely, but... I sense the potential for a series here, but I doubt I would ever get around to writing it. If so, I feel this is how part of it would play out. Hope you like it!

You couldn't run anymore.

Your legs felt as if they were laden with lead, the effort of moving them only emphasized by the sharp ache that kept piercing your senses with each step.

You were well past the border now, you were certain of it. Even if you hadn't completely made the crossing just yet, your ascent surely had left any pursuers at least a few days behind you.

For now, surrounded by forest as far as you could see, you decided it was safe enough to rest, even just for a few hours.

The moon was scarcely a sliver, barely peeking through the clouds, and you weren't going to risk a light.

You weren't foolish enough to fear the fey from the fairy tales your family had fed you throughout your childhood, but you weren't so naive to believe monsters weren't real. Tragically, it seemed you were damned to know just how real they actually were.

You wandered for maybe another hour, relieved to find a quiet stream and, next to it, a ramshackle old barn. You prayed it was abandoned, dared to hope when you noticed no animals nearby, no recent signs of life.

There was a hole worn through the roof, several in the floor of the loft, and what had likely once been a vividly decorated door barely clung to its hinges; you found a warm wave of attached contentment for its ruin.

You barely remembered falling asleep, barely remembered checking every possible exit for easiest accessibility. You did recall thinking how warm the hay was around you- hidden as you decided to make yourself in it- and the silent hope that any rats would leave you in peace.

Morning came with a gentleness that lulled you into a false sense of security. For a few moments, you simply watched the dust play in the sunshine, let yourself listen to the various birds darting between the exposed rafters, inhaled the scents of pine and hay and goa-

You felt your whole body stiffen in your panic, mentally trying to determine which of the six exits would be easiest, which would-

"Wouldn't bother; you won't get far."

If you had been scared before, the sudden presence of a male voice absolutely petrified you. Your heart stopped, your eyes frantically seeking out the source of sound, even from underneath your pile of hay.

"You could try going west from here, but you don't seem the climbin' type."

You let yourself process his words, recognized some sort of strange calm radiating from them, a detached sort of bluntness. It was- odd.

"Then again, appearances can be deceiving. That's what Lilli's always telling me; for all I know you're even more a mountaineer than I am."

Higher peaks to the west then? You really did make it past the border.

Would also explain his accent.

"I would say south, but they're pretty strict on sending people back to wherever they started from, no matter what they're sending them back to."

So you couldn't go south, and there was no way you were going to risk north or east again. West, perhaps, but you didn't have the right equipment, and you'd be damned if you would risk traveling through a pass, and God only knew how far you still were from France.

Other details of your surroundings were starting to register- the steady rhythm of milking, the scrape of hooves against the wooden floors, the smell of toast and jam drifting in through the window nearby. You could hear the flap of clothes hanging on a line, let yourself imagine the older farmer who was casually telling you how best to avoid capture.

Even in later years, you never would be able to explain what exactly possessed you to leave your little nest, never could quite explain how his odd form of detachment gave you a sense of security.

Whatever the reason, you were soon descending the ladder into the main part of the stable, shocked to discover the farmer- who you had guessed was likely in his 40s or 50s- was maybe only a handful of years older than you, speaking softly to his goats as you crept closer, stopping several feet away, head hanging in defeat.

"Where can I go?"

You didn't see him startle at your voice, missed the surprise and curiosity in his eyes when he got his first proper look at you. You were not at all who he had been expecting, and that fact alone changed everything.

"Who says you have to go anywhere?"

The casual wording, a dismissal woven almost entirely into an invitation, had you once more facing your host, confusion etching itself clearly across your features. "I'm sorry?"

If he was at all fazed by your presence, by your past, by anything- He really was making it a point not to show it. He shrugged at your unspoken question, a half shake as he continued milking the little black and brown goat, attention turning to the task at hand.

"You don't have to go anywhere." There was a pointed pause for a moment, and then he was turning to you again, something resembling concern in his eyes. "Unless you- Sorry, I shouldn't assume. Are you meeting someone?"

The sincerity, the concern, the compassion- It was one of the few glimpses of Humanity that you had seen in what felt an infinity, and you could have been knocked over with a feather for how weightless it made you.

But sobriety was swiftly restored, a bitterness to your words as you felt a familiar wave of grief, of longing, of pure, unadulterated anguish. There were so many connections severed, so many people you would never see again, either of choice or-

"There's no one who'd miss me."

You could have been mistaken, but you were quite certain you saw a flicker of anger in his gaze, so swift and unexpected that you forgot all about it in the next moment. "I'm sorry."

You knew he meant it, even if his tone still carried a hint of that detachment. You knew he was apologizing for more than your isolation, for your fate, for not being able to offer you more than he was.

It was a kind gesture, but the platitudes of strangers are a passing comfort at best. He seemed to realize this even as you did, overcome by an abrupt awkwardness that almost immediately endeared him to you.

He was grumbling something incoherent, a redness tinting his ears, eyes directed somewhere beyond you as he collected himself. Finally, he sighed, turning to you once more.

"Lilli should still have some breakfast warmed up. It won't be much but you're welcome to it. We can try to find you some new clothes later; I'm sure you want a day or two to rest up."

You nearly protested; he was being too kind and almost too welcoming; you-

His very pointed glance at your leg- which you had forgotten all about- and the makeshift bandage (made of an old scarf and your mother's formerly favorite apron) immediately silenced any arguments you may have utelized.

With a wince, you nodded in agreement, silently vowing to yourself to not stay any longer than you needed to. He was too good a person- and Lilli, too, though you had yet to meet her- for you to risk putting in danger.

Just for a few days. *

#spoiler alert: they stay forever~#switzerland x reader #aph switzerland #hetalia switzerland #hws switzerland #basch zwingli #aph basch zwingli #hetalia basch zwingli #basch zwingli x reader #readerfic #i think???#hello lovelies!#more a fic than the last one and wow i really do have a LOT of ideas for this like #seriously it was like each town in switzerland reacted differently to refugees then #some just kind of immediately adopted whoever whenever and then others were immeidately trying to deport #i wish i could say i would write more of this but i can't say that i will #maybe someday?#lilli zwingli #aph liechtenstein #hetalia liechtenstein #hws liechtenstein #so she's more of name but hey she's more presently acknowledged that basch is #sir how do you invite someone into your home and never ask their name????????#i love you but why are you like this????????????????????????????????????????????

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

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I watched your latest video and I am so so proud of you!! To write over 10k in a single day (more like afternoon) after being in a writing stump is truly amazing. Congratulations! 💕

thank you so so much for this message!

(lil ramble ahead, CW for discussions of anxiety & mental illness)

just a little disclaimer: this discussion is based on my own experiences, which means your experience/the experiences of others may differ.

honestly, I’ve been feeling a little conflicted about that video because I really don’t want to make it seem like it was easy for me to hit that many words in one day (I know it may have looked like it was easy, but I was genuinely in shock that whole day LOL). Writing 10k in a day was a huge experiment that was made to challenge my anxiety disorders which do affect my creativity (not to actually write 10k, but to set a goal high enough that I’d have to expose myself to being comfortable with being uncomfortable while drafting instead of letting my anxiety control my process to “protect myself” -- so, this experiment would not have worked if I’d set a more “manageable” goal like 2k words since my brain sees that and is like oh! I can definitely write that over the course of 24 hrs so I’ll definitely overthink for you etc).

I know when people produce a lot, it can seem like the opposite of struggling, and because this is how my mental health problems manifest, I sometimes find it difficult to phrase why a 10k day was so important for me--not because of “productivity” or “word count” but because it allowed me to write without fear for the first time in YEARS! I know people may look at my YouTube videos and see that I’m always writing/always making videos/doing things that look “productive.” To be fully transparent, though, “productivity” for me is, a lot of the time, a product of mental illness. I was SO tired of this, so I made the autonomous decision to topple this idea on its head: yes, I would create a LOT in 24 hrs (because I LOVE to and I’m not going to let anxiety take away something I love) but those 24 hrs would not be comprised of “toxic productivity” to help me cope, but just straight up fun (<< 10k day definitely achieved this). I could show myself that creating doesn’t have to hinge on fear-based, perfect production, but enjoyment-based fun times (with “productivity” being a byproduct of joy - not what I was looking for in this experiment, but what society would see as someone being productive; I see it as me being happy!). The word count was a necessity for this.

I actually had no idea how much my anxiety dictated my creative processes until a few months ago. The experiment wasn’t about HITTING the word count at all, but instead, about not letting my anxiety hyper-dictate how I wrote that day (I kind of needed reverse psychology to even be primed to let go of my anxiety; the word count goal allowed for this). I know the normal reaction is to wonder how a person could ever achieve that/be like “I could not do that” which I totally get because me!!!!! same!!! I am usually a very slow drafter and that’s fine! but idk?? I’ve been feeling a little muggy lately because I’m not sure I was clear enough on why I was doing it--not to celebrate the word count or even hyperproduce, but to push through my anxiety and feel actual joy writing again!

sorry to ramble here, haha, these are just thoughts I’ve been culminating while reading the comments/replies/reblogs etc. I’ve been anxious the last few days about the experiment’s reception because the video was more meant for myself to show myself that the Rachel who does have to deal with more adversity than her past self can still be joyful and love things. The intent was certainly not to make people feel bad about their own processes.

All that’s to say I just really appreciate this message because I wasn’t sure if I’d made a mistake sharing (because I definitely don’t want to make others feel bad about their outputs, etc; y’all know I adore your writing processes, no matter what they are). But my 10k day was a really important day for my mental health and gave me hope for the future (which I didn’t realize I had lost!). So I appreciate you taking the time to send this! Thank you!

#asks

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karoiseka · 4 years

Text

Forgotten Home

Spoilers for End of 5.0-takes place 5.1-2 ish. ((This is finally digging into a bit more of Karo’s backstory. I really took my time with this one, and am very proud of it. Hope you enjoy!))

The Twelveswood felt different. That was the only way Karoiseka could describe it. The First was saved, and she was back on the Source again, giving an update to the Scions still here, but had felt a pull to the woods just to the South of Camp Tranquil. The forest giants of years past had given way to a younger growth bordering Thanalan, the warm air from the desert colliding with the cool shade under the trees. She could feel Ardbert's curiosity at what they were doing there, paired with her own. The paths she had walked most of her life held an extra forgotten meaning that was clawing its way back into her memories. This wasn't just a hunting trail, like so many others, there--beneath the tall oak--she could remember her first hunting kill with her new larger bow, a gift from--

There was almost a physical pain as the forgotten memory surfaced, almost an Echo manifestation, and she could see a snapshot of the moment, Seirlait--her Da--proudly standing nearby. Her heart ached as she saw his face in her mind as clear as it had been that day. As clear as it had been when she had waved good-bye to them-both her fathers- a smile on her face as they headed out to help with the preparations for the clash at Carteneau as she stayed to look after the cabin. How? How had she forgotten them? Da and Pa both, the memories assailing her senses as feet tore along the trail heading to a destination her mind had not reconciled yet.

There- that tree had been so good for climbing.

The little stream that held such wonders to the small child she once was.

That clearing holding the best herbs for the evening stew to be cooked over the fire.

Tiny fingers weaving a flower crown, placing it triumphantly on Feophaux's (Pa’s) head.

The boughs of a willow creating a curtain to play hide and seek in--learning more skills from both her fathers.

The perfect reading nook nestled high in the treetops with just enough light.

Eyes unseeing of the present, Karo lived in the flashbacks of her past as every step closer to- closer to home. The word burned in her mind as a beacon, blinding her to all else. Was this what she had been seeking all these years? Wasn't that the Rising Stones? Hadn’t she found her other home in the Crystal Tower on the First? She vaguely remembered in her unforgotten recollections the Highlander and Duskwight, eyes full of grief as they watched her escape the cabin that she had lived in after the Calamity--and before she now knew again. The pain in their voices as they pleaded with her to remember them, and the anguish when she told them to stop calling her their daughter. She left shortly after, headed to Gridania to find her own way, adrift with scant more than the short bow she had been teaching-reteaching-herself to use, and a small pack.

The Calamity. It had to have been the catalyst of the memory loss, for she could see clearly now that nothing but muscle memory and a vague sense of what felt right were all that had remained from before that fateful day. Now she wondered what had changed again, even as the sheepish feeling from Ardbert guided her to an answer. The shock of living through the initial seventh rejoining of souls must have triggered the amnesia in the first place, her mind blocking the trauma of the moment. The acceptance and welcoming of Ardbert's soul to her own had healed all those splintered parts, even those that were unknown to her to begin with. It had taken time to come back to her, and a slightly longer stay on the Source than she had taken in a long while, but now that the trickle had started, the dam was broken--her mind filled with all that she had forgotten. Ardbert ensured that they didn't stumble through the frantic rush she made down the trail--not caring about the tracks she was leaving in her wake.

Malms later, her feet stopped and past and present collided as her eyes saw again. The small cabin was sealed tight against the elements, and the overgrowth in the garden and clearing spoke of no one having tended to them for at least two years. The Bard fell to her knees, a low keening sound filling the air--she vaguely recognized it as her own voice, grief overwhelming her. The run, much less the mental exertion, had taken a huge chuck of energy from her, and Karo wept, broken at the sight of her childhood home--empty.

As the sun crawled across the sky, Karo slowly took in the details of the clearing. Not much had changed in the years since she had left. The garden was overgrown, but the perennial plants fought for their place among the weeds. The archery targets were still affixed to the surrounding trees, all at different heights, some now hidden from the growth. Bluebells covered the small meadow, and she remembered stubbornly throwing the seeds all over instead of planting them in neat rows in the flowerbeds because they were her favorite and she couldn't see the flowerbeds from her bedroom window. Looking carefully, finally pacing forward on shaking legs, Karo noticed that the cabin was carefully secured--just as it had been every time they had left for their summer journey. The only thing that concerned her was that it looked as if they hadn't been back in at least one winter--maybe even two or three--not even passing through during the warmer months.

Digging into her newfound memories, she spun and headed to the tree that was surrounded by the most bluebells. The archery target there was still attached to one of the lower branches, but the Bard still had to climb a bit to reach it. Fiddling with the back of it, the small compartment made itself known, and the prize ended up in her nimble fingers. The front door key. Jumping down, she forced herself to walk fully around the house, checking for any breaches that could mean that the house wasn’t secure, or that someone or something, was residing within. Not finding even so much as something that would let a draft in, she braced herself and headed to the door.

The key slid into the lock, and only needed a slight bit of jiggling to get it to turn, the door itself stiff from disuse and the hinges creaking with the rust buildup. Karo was hit with the sweet smell of dried lavender, vanilla, and sweet cedar; all the smells she remembered that hearkened to what home meant. The curtains being drawn left the main room in shadows, the light from the doorway streaming into the air laden with the dust she had kicked up by entering. The cabin was one main room split with partitions into areas for cooking, dining, and leisure. There was a bedroom for her fathers off to one side, and a small bathing chamber on the other. The tiny loft above the bath area had been hers to claim, curtains creating a small wall for her privacy.

Leaving the door open for the light, and to air the place out a bit, Karo started to open the curtains to let in more natural light before she looked around for any clues to where Seirlait and Feophaux had disappeared to. Absentmindedly, she headed to the kitchen sink, and ran the tap for a few moments, letting the components loosen up and water to come back through the pipes since it had obviously been a while. Grabbing a rag, she wet it with the first bit of water that came through, and wiped down the counters, removing the thin layer of dust that had gathered. A quick peek at the pantry showed that beyond some items that kept for seasons, naught had been left. That was normal enough, so she continued on to the all-purpose room. The large fireplace on one end was one of two in the house that provided most of the heat in the winter, as well as some basic charms. The wall was lined with books of all types, and one of the racks of shelves was full of supplies for writing, and hooks for instruments that had obviously gone wherever their owners were.

Karo’s attention was pulled to her left, for there, lying on the table near the fireplace, was a folded piece of paper, her full name carefully written across it. Hands shaking, she picked it up carefully, blowing dust off of it as she broke the seal on the back and started to read.

Dearest Karoiseka,

If you’re reading this, it means, we hope, that you have found your way back home and that beyond our wildest dreams that you have finally remembered all that occurred prior to Carteneau.

After you left, we continued on best we could, despite missing you dearly. We know that we had spent a long time at Carteneau helping to clean up and transport people all over Eorzea, but we had not anticipated you not remembering us at all or anything from your childhood.

Some time after you left, at least a year, we started hearing your name out of Gridania--how you were a bit of a local legend as an adventurer. You had cleared out several dens of evil, and were becoming beloved by all that crossed your path. Incredulous, we followed any scrap of information we could get, hearing about the Scion, Primals, and Garlean forces and your role in taking them down only made us fear for your safety.

Then came the accusations from Ul’dah. None of which could be true. Word of you dropped off except for hushed whispers, before rushing back in a whirlwind of fantastical stories of you bringing the Dragonsong War to an end in Ishgard. We even made the trek to Mor Dhona hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but left before we did--partially because we feared you still wouldn’t recognize us. We heard that you were part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn there, and even talked with an Ironworks engineer who said he had worked with you before. Knowing you were safe among friends eased our hearts for a bit as we headed home.

Another year passed and the uprisings in Ala Mhigo are now all that the city-states are talking about. The Scions are said to be helping with the organization and negotiations , so we have decided to pack up for this year and help. I know not if we shall cross paths while there, or if you will ever see this, but we must do what we can to help. Not only for those that live there, but for you as well. Knowing that we can hopefully take even a little of the burden off of your shoulders is all that we can hope to do.

We love you, and miss you, and pray that you stay safe and healthy through it all.

~Da an Pa

A hot tear splashed onto the paper in her hands as Karo put together the timeframe that they had been gone. They hadn't yet returned from the liberation of Ala Mhigo--and they had left near the beginning of the conflict, well over two years ago. Considering they had taken almost five years to return from Carteneau, she shouldn't be much surprised. They were probably helping courier refugees back home, and the wounded to the respective city-states. She paced the length of the room, worrying for their safety throughout the conflict as well. It had been extremely wide-spread with the Garlemald forces targeting anything and anybody they even thought were helping the Resistance. She had seen it time and time again from the small villages and hamlets throughout the region in the aftermath as she tried to ease her own guilt from not being there for them and tried to help with the smallest of tasks from anyone who asked. She knew logically she could only be in one place at a time, and that the forces she had been helping were the same. If they hadn’t done what they had, there was a chance the country would still be occupied even now..

Had she seen them though? Walked right by with unseeing eyes? Had they greeted her, only to get her strained public smile in return and a generic platitude--all that she could muster? Had she passed by their graves not knowing who lay there? She had talked to so many people all over the broken country, her mind raced, but all the faces were a blur. She had spent plenty of time in Doma as well, not counting for all the travel back and forth, during that time-paths may have crossed, or may have been missed without even the chance of happening.

Karo wasn’t sure how many times she re-read the pages, and wasn’t fully aware that she had curled up in the large armchair until the evening light hit her eyes streaming in from the still open door. Blinking blearily, she stood and lit a couple of the candles to provide some light in the growing dark. The house had electricity, however, she didn’t feel like finding and turning on the generator quite yet. She closed the door, and got a glass of water from the tap, scrounging for some trail rations that were still in her pack from earlier. The Bard didn’t remember relinquishing her bow and pack at the door, but old habits die hard, and they were neatly hung by the door on the pegs meant for that very purpose.

Tucking the letter safely in her bag she cleaned up the small mess she had made and went to the washroom to clean her face of the salt-crusted tears that had dried there. Not a thing had changed, towels and soap stored neatly away in the same places they always had been. The vase on the sink, usually filled with wildflowers picked during the day, was empty for the time--and she longed to fill it and keep the room cheery, but knew not how long she would be there herself. Responsibilities still loomed both here and on the First, her comrades bodies still laying still in the Dawn’s Respite.

As she climbed up to her loft, not much had changed since she had last been up here. When her memories had first escaped her, she had stayed down in the main bedroom, not realizing that it wasn’t her’s. The loft she had never quite gone up the ladder-like stairs, and so it remained very similar to when she last called it her own. The bed was made, but with an additional sheet covering it all to keep the dust off, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. The hope that lived in her parent’s hearts nearly broke her own, as she caved to exhaustion finally, Ardbert’s comforting presence allowing her to drift off to sleep when she thought it was the furthest thing from her mind.

On the morrow, Karo would write her reply and leave it where she had found her own letter, secure the cabin once more and return the key to it's hiding place. She wouldn't forget again now that her soul was healed, yet her obligations would keep her busy, she knew. When she had time, she would ask her various contacts, hoping beyond hope that someone has news, and if they didn't, that her note would be read, and that they would return once more to the Rising Stones, asking for her proudly by name.

#ffxiv #karoiseka #karo's backstory #My writing #proudofthisone #I really like how the chair pose came out too #did that from scratch #I got a little lazy with the other shots #might redo them later #if I keep the apt set up like this #bought and decorated a whole apt just for some of those

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lokidrabbles · 4 years

Text

Sweet-Scented Alien (Loki x Reader)

Loki has another difficult night and the reader takes care of him

A/N: Another Loki has really bad nightmares one shot! I know I kinda go all over the place with this one, but I tend to have a lot of ideas for Loki’s POV. However, I hope you all can enjoy! As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: Suggested smut, but not really

The same nightmare continued to torment the Asgardian prince. The destruction of Asgard, the loss of his parents, and the Titan’s enormous grasp around his neck would resume like a broken record until a morbid snap in his neck would shove him awake into the real world.

He gasped for air as his body jolted him awake, frozen in place while his mind still processed the tangibility of his surroundings. He would instinctively reach to feel the back of his neck, an effort to make sure it still remained in tact. He still remained in one piece, and he considered himself unworthy of his blessings.

The mad Titan still lingered somewhere out there, in search of Loki, in search of unimaginable power. Loki had the fortune of being able to stay out of the Titan’s radar for this long, but the possibility still remained. He was out there, and Loki hid himself away like a coward, here with you, exposing you to the unimaginable danger.

Tonight’s was especially vivid, and he couldn’t imagine such a brutal way to be permanently discarded of. He quickly dug his nails into his forearm, making his pain evident for him to fully bring himself in focus. He attempted to stabilize his breathing, but his efforts remained futile for now. He avoided wanted to wake you up, but you were always sensitive about these things, and as if on cue, he felt you shift and slowly turn towards him.

“Hey, Loki. What’s wrong?” He heard you say softly.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” He responded hastily, but only to still catch his breath.

“You’re shaking. Did you have another bad dream?” He sensed your concern grow, feeling you sit upwards against the backboard of your bed.

It was difficult to admit he did. Not only did he detest seeing you worry about his well being, as that was his obligation to you, but he detested how vulnerable he appeared in front of you. He’d dread at the possibility of being perceived as weak, someone incapable of protecting you, all because of a dream.

“Please, I don’t need you to hold my hand constantly over this.” He responded, intending for it to come out as disconnected as he could.

“Loki, you’re literally shaking.” You said as a matter of fact. Loki soon felt the touch of your palm over his cheek, relishing in the warmness you provided. “You’re freezing too.”

Adrenaline rushed through him at the though of his body temperature dropping dramatically. You weren’t jesting about something this, and he knew his mental and emotional vulnerability must have triggered some part of his frost giant biology to act defensively. He needed to gain control ASAP, before something worse appeared.

“Err, I think I should just rest somewhere else, just so I won’t continue waking you up anymore. Perhaps, that couch in your living room?”

“What? Loki, don’t be stupid. I want you to stay here with me, especially if you had another nightmare like that.” You said while tugging at his forearm, seemingly disregarding his unusual coldness.

You were a fool, but his heart fluttered at your clinging. “Very well. However, I am a little apprehensive about resting. I honestly will stay up for the remainder of the evening.”

“Guess I’m staying up with you too.”

“You really mustn't stay up. You don’t enough rest for your human body as it is, no matter how much I lecture you about it.”

He could see you roll your eyes within the darkness. “You have to let me take care of you Loki, that’s part of the deal we had.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Uh-huh.”

Loki felt the covers flying off of you as you rose up from your bed, padding gently across your floor. You made your way into your bathroom, flicking the lights on and beginning to rummage through your belongings.

Loki squinted at the sudden brightness, peering off the side to catch a glimpse at whatever you were doing. “(Y/N). You must come rest.”

“I will.” You exclaimed from afar. “But I got something for you first.”

Damn. “Stop with the foolishness. I told you I’m fine.”

You didn’t respond, and Loki could only hear you still rummaging. He focused his hearing to catch anything pertinent, before he would justly stomp into that bathroom, pick you up, and toss you back into bed. This was his own issue to deal with after all and he still cringed at the idea of having this mortal, this human, willingly tend to him.

His ears perked at the sound of a squeaking hinge, and then of running water. Oh no.

You slowly stepped out, your pajama sleeves rolled at the way up to your elbows. Your hair was still a mess, and the circles under your eyes suggested you definitely had not gotten enough sleep this night. But still you stood there, and even in your most dullest appearance, Loki still thought you were lovely.

“Okay, start getting naked.” You said through a yawn.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m drawing you a warm bath dummy. You’re sticky, and maybe you can relax more if your body warmed up too.”

The act of kindness was too sickening for him. Loki was a frost giant, and although he always maintained good homeostasis over his own biological temperature, he would always be naturally a bit colder than most aesir or humans. It wasn’t something to be saddened about, it was simply how he was. And yet, with your best efforts, you still desired to provide him with relief, even if it probably wouldn’t have any effect on him at all. It was all charming, and Loki had grown very unused to having someone mend his perceived suffering. Again, he felt his heart flutter at the notion.

“You cannot be serious.” He said flatly, a small piece of him hoping you’d still pester him about it.

“Come one, you’ll feel much better. And then after, I promise I’ll go back to sleep, deal?”

“Hmm. You strike up a difficult bargain, human. But very well, if it will get you off my back and get you some rest.”

You provided Loki with two thumbs up, sealing the verbal agreement. Loki groaned, pushing himself off the bed and beginning to discard his clothes. From the corner of his eye, he could see you leaning on the doorway into your bathroom, blatantly ogling at him and his bare body. Not that Loki really minded. In fact, he felt some sense of pride at how easily you’d become distracted at his nude form. Which of course meant you wouldn’t have eyes for anyone else.

“You’re staring.” He said teasingly.

“Guilty as charged. Now come on, before I start getting any more ideas.”

Loki trudged behind you into your bathroom, a heavy scent filling his nostrils immediately. It was sweet and nutty, and he immediately identified this scent as your own. There would be days, special occasions, where you would bathe in this sweet almond scent. He thought it was purposeful, for he would be unable to keep his hands off of you, rejoicing in the intoxicating smell gently coming from your hair and skin.

“You’re not getting nude as well?” He asked disappointingly.

“Good idea. But my tub is too small, and it wouldn’t be as fun as you’d imagine.” You reached over to grab his wrist, coaxing him towards your tub.

Steam began to tickle at his nose, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the ridiculous amount of soap and foam rising. “This wasn’t necessary.”

“Sure it was, go ahead and dip in.”

He sighed, knowing he had to oblige in fear that you would become upset at him. He carefully took one step in, shivering at the sudden exposure to the searing temperature. The heat would soon cool off as soon as he’d emerge his entire body in, but of course you didn’t realize that would happen. Nevertheless, he slowly submerged himself (or as much as he could), enjoying the brief heat that engulfed his skin. He inhaled and let out a deep breath, sinking his hair into the bubbly water. The almond scent now fully took over his entire sense of smell, and he closed his eyes. He imagined this heat as your own, this smell as your own, covering him entirely.

You had perched beside him and your tub, seemingly not minding the water that had splashed over. You dipped a finger in, as if making sure the temperature was adequate enough for him. Another yawn escaped your mouth while doing so and Loki immediately took notice.

“You’re exhausted and you’re making it very obvious. Now, this was your own doing. I don’t want to be blamed for this in the morning.”

You waved your hand to dismiss his comment. “That’s not what’s important right now. How are you feeling?”

“A tad ridiculous with my knees protruding out like so. But yes, the water is quite nice.”

As sleepy as you were, he saw you beam with joy. “Good to hear. I’m hoping this means you’ll be more open to my methods here.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll stop worrying and go back to bed.” Part of it was true, and the other part mostly involved still wanting to appease you.

“Oh stop it.” You said, playfully splashing some water at him. “Let me do this for you, it’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.”

That last part was hard to fully accept. Truly, he didn’t think he’d done much for you. Or at least, he interpreted it much differently than you did. He knew humans were very meticulous in their way of expressing love and care, and while he was no stranger to it, he was rusty about it. The closest thing that popped in his head was that time he carried you back home after you had gotten inebriated, but he was certain you didn’t want to hear about that again.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but that’s a bit of a stretch for my liking.” He said, dipping his head backwards into the water.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just not sure if what you say is true. I can easily go inside your mind and find out for myself. But even so, I doubt I’d believe that.”

“Believe what, that you haven’t done anything for me?” You asked incredulously.

“I suppose that’s the curse I carry. You know, still being apprehensive about all of this.” He knew it sounded harsh, to even question his relationship with you, but a big function of this relationship was his honesty with you. He knew you wouldn’t cast him away with these words, but there was a speck inside of him that would be terrified of the notion.

He saw your lips twist disapprovingly, and then you shoved a chunk of bubbles right into his face. “You know, for being insanely intelligent, you can be pretty damn stupid too.”

His brows furrowed, shoving away the soapy residue from his face. “Not exactly what I expected to hear.”

“Loki, I’d like to safely think that us sleeping together, having sex, sharing meals, dealing with our worst attitudes on a daily basis, and screwing around with Tony Stark should at least suggest something to you.” You said aggressively. “You think I’d just let anyone call me a stupid human with no discernible reason.”

He opened his mouth temporarily to spew out an argument, but promptly sealed his lips once he noticed how irked you had become. He often enjoyed irking you about several things, but this wasn’t the best way to go at it. He could tell from your approach and body language that you were dead serious about it, and he genuinely wanted to believe that.

“You really need to get it through your head that you matter to me, like a lot.” You continued, standing up and reaching over to grab one of your towels. “I really don’t know how else to say it so you can fully understand.”

“Perhaps, there is something you could do. You know, just so I can understand better.” He said lowly, almost muttering it.

“Oh, and what exactly is that?”

“I’m going to need you to come closer. Come kneel beside me.” He said, his voice low and sultry.

A smirk appeared on your face, following his words and perching next to him and beside your tub again. He lifted his upper body, lather and water spilling all across his chest and arms and leaned into your lips. He heard a quick ‘oh’ escape from you, satisfied at how quickly you had responded to his actions. In one swift move, Loki grabbed your forearm, and yanked you into towards him. You cursed and fell face forward into him and into the now lukewarm water, splashing and making a terrible mess of all things. Loki saw how your legs flailed comically and couldn’t hold back the irresistible grin decorating his cheeks. You must have flopped around for a good minute or so until you managed to hold yourself up by your arms, hair and clothes absolutely drenched.

“Ehehehe.” He sniggered, loving the absolute look of indignation you shot at him.

“God, why do you have to be such a dick?” You muttered, along with some other offensive words.

“That’s it. That’s all I needed, I fully understand now. Thank you so much for that spectacle (Y/N). I believe I can say with confidence that I truly enjoy being with you as well.”

“You’re such a little shit, oh my god.” You lunged at him, making your best attempts to push his head underwater. “Why are you always making me fall for stupid shit?”

“Darling, please!” He exclaimed, grin still very present. “Please don’t end me in such a way. Not at least till you get rid of those soaked garments first.”

“No fucking way-”

“Ah, fucking? You’ve read my mind indeed. Well, if you are suggesting it.”

You groaned loudly, standing up, hair and clothes dripping wet. You stomped out in a fury, muttering things along the way which Loki could only catch as another clear ‘fuck you.’

He followed suit and rose from the water, tip toeing behind you while soap suds still fell from his bare body. The nightmare from earlier that evening would soon be long forgotten, and although Loki’s attempts at getting down and dirty with you wouldn’t be successful, there was something much more important at hand, something he’d fully come to realize with his little prank.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki (mcu)#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki drabbles #loki odinson

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visual-explorxtion · 4 years

Text

Vinylic Taste [Carlos Oliveira x Reader] - One Shot

Summary: You’re trapped and alone in the midst of an outbreak, struggling to survive. In the depths of your despair, Carlos came to the rescue. Through your ups and downs, Carlos soon became your best partner and vice versa. But...you soon realise Carlos isn’t who he appears to be.

A/N: Are you reading this at night time? Good...Wanted to write a Carlos fic but also wanna try and write something different from my usual stuff. But also got super distracted by other ideas and this fic got pushed waaaay further back and kinda took a different turn from my original plan and 11 pages in, I panicked. Still in first person POV.

TW: Graphic depiction of Violence, Blood, Gore, Angst, a bit of horror (idek), prob not as graphic as you think but it’s still graphic, uhh language and bit of a Mind Break.

Words: 6.0k

How did things turn out this way? Blood seeped its way across the vinyl floor, forming a pool around my feet as I sat helplessly with my body shivering in fear. Chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked wide open, my blurry gaze fixated onto a man but I could only make an outline of them. Him; on his knees, lays a lifeless corpse in between them, all drenched in venous blood as the deep red colour streams down every rigid and curves of his face. The air is thick combined with the stench of iron and gunpowder. He stares at his hands, covered in liquid but not his own. He laughs- echoes through my soul and pulsated the room- never have I ever heard of something so harrowing and sinister coming from a human. If he even had any sanity left in him. Neck twists abnormally towards my direction, head tilts eerily as if it's only supported by a thin piece of string. A soft gasp left my mouth, throat scorched with fear and lips quivering. My limbs lay still no matter how much I tell myself to run. My sense of self is being sucked into his dark, endless gaze. The light behind his eyes had vanished, all that's left is a soulless carcass I no longer recognise.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

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

The thunderous rain came washing down my face, lowering my field of vision. The moisture trickles down from thick strands of hair and onto the rubble concrete in a light rhythmic pitter-patter. In the span of 24 hours, everything turned from just an average day in this town to be engulfed and corrupted by a fiery shitshow. Humans eating humans, without a hint of remorse. They have no emotions, no pain tolerance. Their sole purpose is to feed on anything that has a heartbeat. It creeps me out. Like somebody playing a joke too far to the point of no return. That's what I'd initially thought. In my struggle to keep myself alive in this godforsaken town, each bullet is scarce but every item you gather is expendable. As the gun recoils, a leftover shell would flicker out with each bullet piercing the head of the undead. A steady hand, steady trigger finger and steady breathing. One by one, I shot them down. The feeling of ambivalence surrounds my mind with every shot I take. This isn't right, they are...were...humans, flesh and blood.

The ringing in my ears grew louder with each squeezing action I take. The heat of adrenaline coursing through under my skin, my peripheral vision gradually disappears until I'm left with the image of head to head. Before I could react, my back was already on the ground. The backside of my head slams against the solid sidewalk with a loud crack, the noise echoed inside for a nanosecond. My self-defence mechanism kicks in- forearm struggle against the zombie's throat, it's jaw hinges wide open with blood oozing out as it frantically pushes it's deadweight onto me. Its skin texture is abnormal, like every part of them is set in stone. Why didn't rigor mortis happen? My fingers tremble, trying to grasp for the handle of my gun that's just out of reach. Muscles burn and ache as my defence is crumbling to its limit, teeth-gritting with every last strength that I have. I refuse to die like this. Not like them.

As my forearm grew tired- inching closer and closer to my face- I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look Death in its soulless gaze and let it consume me slowly in the space of darkness. The next moment, I felt liquid splatter across my face but the pain never set in. My eyes flew open and watched as the corpse lay limping on my arm and the rest drop dead around my vicinity. I grunt as I discard the corpse aside, inspecting it one more time for any sign of movement. Face frozen in place as blood runs dry from the temple. The sight of this made my stomach churn.

"Hey, are you alright? Can you stand?"

A muscular figure towers over me, fully equipped in tactical gear. One hand armed with an assault rifle and the other extended out towards my direction. His hand is all worn out, even though the gloves I can see his fingers covered in blisters and scratches. They have seen better days.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

I choked out as I accept his assistance. His grip heaved my weight without breaking a sweat but may have overestimated his strength a little. His aid offset my balance and my body crash-landed in his embrace. Even with me standing on my own two feet, he's still almost a foot taller than I am. Our eyes met for a brief moment but I immediately jumped out of his arms as heat flushed up my cheeks and I regain my composure. He chuckles.

"My name is Carlos, I'm with the UBCS and we're here to get you out of here."

The organisation doesn't ring any bells in mind, nevertheless, receiving help from a rescue team is better than trudging through this damned hell alone. I would be lucky if I could even make it out alive. But, this strange rescue encounter sends comfort to my mind and slowly easing off my anxiety, or maybe it's because I'm no longer alone with Carlos's presence next to mine. Either way, I shouldn't let my guard down even with the help I'm getting.

The rest of his team is gathered in the subway station, we've arrived just in time for the last train to bound. Every one of them is tattered and covered in rags, exhausted and in pain. I can't imagine what kind of hell they've fought through, compared to myself, it's nothing but a just a minor scratch. Carlos caught up with his crew while I took a seat as all my energy is drained from my soul. The cool metal sensation seeped through my jeans and triggered goosebumps and hair along my arm, I couldn't care less about the shock as exhaustion washes over my limbs. I've been beaten down mentally and physically enough for me to not realise the train was already in motion. The view from out the window is nothing but a fast pace blur of darkness. All that just happened felt so unreal- the gush of blood, the viscous touch of muscle fibres, so red yet so cold. Getting pinned to the ground by this...thing. Its strength is vicious and animalistic with a face that doesn't resemble a human anymore. And at that moment my mind went blank. What if, at that very second, nobody came to save me? What if, I just gave up? What if, I let its teeth sink into my neck? What if...I just died there and then?

"How are you holding up?"

Carlos appeared before me, interrupting all the trepidatious thoughts. A slow realisation sets in as my hands tremble in my lap. Immediately, I curl my fingers into fists to cover up the jitter from him. "Still holding" I swallowed and smile politely, hoping the lump in my throat won't betray me right now. He returned the smile and positioned himself in the seat next to mine. "You were brave out there. Fighting by yourself...not many people have the balls to do that."

I let out a quiet snort. "No, you saved my ass. I wasn't brave. I was just lucky. If it wasn't for you I would've..." A pause, "I would've become one of them by now." Tears tingled behind my eyes as I blinked several times to keep them at bay. Carlos catches my hands tenderly, unravelling my fingers one by one, releasing all the tension I took a grasp of and crimson liquid came dribbling out the crescent-shaped wound. The fear in my head numbs all my pain; unaware of the shallow cuts, the maroon shade stained the dents of my fingertips. He took out some bandages from one of his pouches and carefully bind them to stop the bleeding. "There. That should do the trick." he grins as I admire his patchwork. "Thank you." I returned the kindness and we sat in comfortable silence. Upon closer inspection, Carlos does look kinda cute. The corner of his eyes crinkles and smile line deepens whenever he laughs, not to mention, his voluminous mane is the centre of attention. It kind of reminds me of an Old English Sheepdog and that image alone made me giggle.

"Carlos, we have a situation." we turn our attention to another team member, dressed in the same gear as Carlos- except his appearance was more well-kept, clean-shaven. Carlos turns, face sombre, knowing the news that comes next won't be any good. "What's the status?"

"Charlie's comms are down. The situation currently unknown."

"And Bravo team's position?"

"They're en route to Charlie, but they've already lost half their men"

He ponders for a moment. "Alright, change of plan. We'll meet up with Bravo and rescue Charlie. Once we get there, see if you can call for extraction out of this city."

His colleague nodded and went off to relay the message to the rest of the squad. Carlos turns back and kneels down, looking at me in the eyes, he softly spoke. "Hey. We're gonna have to take a detour, but I promise you, I'll keep you safe." He paused, reading my reaction. "Are you okay with that?"

My gaze wanders around his nervous expression, but I simply smiled. "Yeah, it's better than being alone out there right now. And besides, I don't doubt your abilities to keep me safe." His face went blank for a few seconds to unexpectedly bursts into laughter as though my answer caught him by surprise. "Okay. We'll be getting off next stop. In the meantime, stock up on some supplies cuz we don't know what's out there. Talk to one of the guys and they can get what you need." Carlos winked before leaving me to psych myself up for what's coming ahead. Knowing the chaos that's happening out there, it's going to be a dirty fight.

Our clattering footsteps relay around the walls of the subway as the lights flicker in a retrospective beat. The place is bare and quiet. Too quiet, even. Not even a single croak or heavy breathing could be perceived. It is deadly silent. Why is it empty? With the city running amok, you'd expect people to be escaping this hell hole; or worst-case scenario, laying dead in this underground. But, nothing. Not a single body insight. That's what worries me. I could say the same for the rest of Carlos's team. Which means, whatever is waiting for us out there is greater than what we could imagine.

My knees are getting weaker by the minute, shuffling closer to Carlos as I grasp my gun tight. Fingers nervously fiddling with the indents of the grip; sucking in a cool breath of air and pulling my shoulders back, we press on.

The layout of the underground is intricate and labyrinthine- reaching an intersection every few minutes, but we haven't let our guard down. Turning the last corner, we finally arrived at the main plaza; still remaining empty but the place was already thrashed. Carlos signalled for everyone to spread out and search the area, while I linger next to him. My heartbeat is racing quick as ever since I stepped off the train with the rapid pulse stuck in the back of my throat. He gently touches my arm, worry flash before his eyes but I shook my head. 'I'm fine' I mouthed. He looked at me for a few seconds, unconvinced, but decided not to force it any further. This place is eerily bleak, what was once lively is now filled with desolation. Somehow there's a slight dread and sadness inside me. The noise of metal clanking took my attention away from my surroundings.

"Damn it. The exits blocked." He gave it another shot but the gate shows no sign of budging. A short, heavy breath escapes his nose. I examined his troubled look and spoke out, "I'll go look for a way to open the gate."

He was stunned. "No. I can't let you do this. It too dangerous-"

"Please, I insist. You've helped me enough so let me do this. Even if I am in trouble, you'll come to save me, right?"

Carlos's expression is tense; I can almost see his thoughts rotating, like clockwork, inside his mind. Considering and reconsidering my offer. At last, my words overthrows him. "Okay, but take this." He hands me a palm-size radio, all tattered and taped. "Anything you see, you radio in. And I mean that. If you see one of those things, do not hesitate to shoot. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I respond, sloppily saluting as I backed away to complete my new objective, continue to traverse down to the backside of the plaza. By the repetition of office doors, this justifies that I'm going in the right direction, but which one? The fluorescent lights blinked abruptly before returning to normal. Seems like the building is getting more unstable, with time quickly ticking away, I should hurry. And by some miraculous luck, I stumbled upon a door that catches my attention. 'Employees Only', this must be it. The door isn't locked but it took a great amount of energy to push a gap open, just enough for me to squeeze through.

Stacks of documents and brick computers blockade the door and next to it; a dead corpse that was once the employee of this place. He must have been dead for 2 hours- top, by the looks of it. The blood forms into a pool around the body and adheres to the sole of my boots. He took the quick way out. A blow to the head with his own pistol, laying dormant in his hand, now motionless in white. Crimson red liquid and shards depicted the blank wall, chunks frozen in place.

"I'm so sorry..."

Choking back my grief, I resume my search and in front of me is my mission objective. Monochromatic screens all tracking specific places of the building. Right on the bigger screen, displays Carlos and his men searching the perimeter. I radio in, "Carlos, come in. I'm in the control room. Hang on, I'll get the gate open."

"Good job. Hurry back and we'll get out-"

The building fades into darkness, heightening my sense of fear in this unfamiliarity. I draw out my gun and tightening my hold like it's my lifeline. My chest stiffens with each shallow breath I took, the effect of the blackout is developing claustrophobia within me. I heaved and the lack of oxygen in my brain cause me to hallucinate all my nightmares, but the image of Carlos flashed vividly in my mind. I took a deep breath and count to three. One...Two...Three... The emergency lights came on before my eyes and my anxiety reverts back to a sense of tranquillity. Talk about timing.

"Carlos? Carlos! Are you okay?" Please tell me he's okay.

No reply.

"Carlos? Are you there? I can't see you." I bit my lip, searching relentlessly on the screen for a trace of him. Just any sign at all.

"Yeah, we're okay. We've taken cover but it's pitch black out here, but...we could only see so much with our flashlight. See if you can get the power back on from your end"

Frantically, I pressed every button presented on the switchboard, nothing seems to be doing the trick. "Negative. I don't think I can do anything from here." All of a sudden, the floor began to rumble. And gradually it became stronger that shook the whole room, files and objects tumble to the ground until it subsides back down again, just like a tank passing by. "What was that?" I said in dismay.

"I don't know..." Coming from the other side of the line, a low growl and heavy footsteps. "But, whatever the fuck that is...It's definitely in here with us now."

In search of the monitor, I glue my eyes to the blurry image shown; even if everything doesn't seem out of the ordinary, my gut feeling is telling me otherwise. Still as a statue, they listened in closely to every motion IT makes. The sound is too quiet to be perceived. Out of the corner of the screen, something whoosh by. Its movements are too fast for me to catch but it's inching closer and closer to the lifeforms. With one swift swipe, it took a man down, and then the next. The claw marks on the wall...it stretches 10 feet wide from point to point, even looking through the screen, the blood is so vividly deep in hue. It crawls in close, but the team is still desperately searching.

It strikes! "Get down!" My voice is shaking down to its core.

They duck, but some did not make it. Their limbs severed; corpse dangling in half on the claw of the monstrous being, still clinging and screaming for their lives and then cease all at once. I shrieked out in horror. The size of that thing knocked the air out of my lungs. This being couldn't possibly be a human?! The zombie creation stood ten times its original size. The exposed skeleton is partially bound by its flesh- all swelled up and tainted, its tail bone morphed to a whip carrying a single-edge blade. Claws digging into the shallow pool of blood as the liquid cascade down the cracks of the marble flooring. The remaining squad open fire, bullets fly and ricochet off the wall. In the brief moment of spark, they lost sight of the target again.

"Shit, where is it?" I can hear the frustration in Carlos's tone.

Their flashlight drifts around the room as the tension sets in. You fear what you can't see, even more so if all you could see is darkness. The beast growls and encircles them, but the squad can't pinpoint where the sound is coming from. Intensity fills your gut as you watch the monitor closely, decoding its every move. After a beat, it leaps.

"Carlos, your 4 o'clock!"

He whips around at the speed of sound as he squeezes the trigger. The blast took impact greater than his expectation, every shot penetrated into its fleshy fibres while it screeched with a chalkboard sound. It struggles to keep a hold of itself up on the pillars as it collapses and tumbles to the ground. Without missing a beat, the team executes the behemoth until it turns into a bloody pulp, killing it with brute force. They inspected the pulverized mess further before they could ease off their defences. As if by command, the power's back on. My stomach turns into a knot. This is strange, but I pay no mind to it.

"Carlos, you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah...that was too close. That thing was too quick... We could've been killed here if it wasn't for you. You were our eyes when we couldn't see so...thank you." I could almost hear him blush at the other end of the line.

"Don't sweat it. Alright, I'm gonna get the gate open." I pulled the lever and watch the gate rise and retracted back through the screen.

"Got it. Now get your ass back he-" THUMP! Something's outside the door, trying to crank it open.

THUMP!

"Carlos? Carlos, someone's trying to get in here." my voice shivers.

"What? What do you mean someo-"

BANG! The door flew open. As an instinct, I drew my gun and aimed it towards them. A team of four heavily armed soldiers dressed in black armoury kicked in, almost like a SWAT team, weapons aimed ready. Without a second thought, I opened two shots on their thighs and calves to buy myself some time. They did not flinch, nor did it cause any pain to them. The unit moved in closer and closer towards my position by the time I made the first punch. My right hook collided with one of the soldier's throat and swiftly transitioned my elbow to another one in between the ribs. But all of that did not matter, my attacks took little effect as they soon surround me, putting me in a lock hold position, hands bound behind my back and dragging me away from the room. I can feel my heartbeat pulsating in my throat while I struggle to break free. Who the fuck are these people? What do they want with me? I don't want this. I'm scared.

"CARLOS!"

His name was the last thing that left my lips before the hooded squad inject my system with some form of liquid. My eyelids grew heavy, I fought back to keep myself awake but alas, the shroud of darkness consumes my mind, taking my soul to a distant world. The next time I wake up, the doors to the pandora's box had already open and it's already too late for me to stop it.

The snickering and one-sided conversation waver into my ear. I can't shift my body, still situated in darkness along with the effect of the drug. The icy metal clasp my limbs tight cemented on either side of my body and unable to produce any strength. The noises stopped and I froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Ah...you're awake. Good, good." The man sneered and carry on muttering in an absence. "You know, I was surprised by your...actions. You all exceeded my expectations. With this data you provided, we could improve on the flaws with our last experiment." He chuckled. "For now, my child, sleep. When you wake up, you'll be born anew again." His words became a slur in my brain, lowering into a hushed tone. Phrases repeat and distorting, just like an echo in an ice cave, cold and enchanting before my conscious slips away once more.

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

"WHAT HAPPENED? HEY, COME IN. HEY!" The statics over on the other line holds its place. "FUCK!" Carlos's voice howls, the thunderous boom stunned the remaining of his teammates. His fists clenched in a fit of rage as he smashes the radio onto the bloodied floor. The radio explodes with shards flying across the hall, some splinters still clinging onto his hand.

"Carlos...umph..." Tyrell struggles, limping its way towards him as he compresses his wound. "The mutated monster...the lights and the locked gate...I don't think it's that simple." he sighs, pushing his glasses back up with his forefinger. "There's only one company that would create such a big experiment. Carlos, listen...you need to stop them."

Carlos shifts to look at him. "T, we still have to meet up with Bravo and we've already lost half of our men. There's no prediction of what's roaming out there."

Tyrell shakes his head, a stern look in his eyes. "No...You've seen what they are capable of, there's no saying what Umbrella might do to next. Go rescue them, I'll handle the rest." He waves him away, still clenched in pain but casually shrugs it off. Carlos conflicted for a short period but ultimately chose to listen to Tyrell. Tyrell gave him a quick pat on his shoulder before Carlos turns away.

[Umbrella's research facility]

The eerie sound of silence fills the whole facility. A silence that stayed constant in your ears, just like the tv sign-off tone. The uneasy feeling never left Carlos's mind as soon as he traverses through the isolated building, gun in position. Walls dressed in white, the distinctive chill in the air and corridors that lead to nowhere. Carlos grew impatient by the minute.

There, at the end of the hallway, lays a door just barely visible for the naked eye. 'Security Room, EMPLOYEES ONLY'. He breaches in; a vast space all clustered with fallen chairs and paperwork, the multiple screens project different rooms within the facility, some looked like its the cafeteria and another resembles a cool storage room with weird pieces of machinery scattered around the place. Yet they are all empty, except one. At the top left-hand corner of the display box, it presents various aqua chambers containing partially mutated humans and failed experiments. And in the centre of that screen, he saw his companion positioned upright on a surgical bed, unconscious and all tied up. But getting there might be difficult without putting up a fight as four heavily armed mercs all gathered outside of the laboratory. Carlos unclips his assault rifle and peeks, the ammunition is barely enough to fight four soldiers; hell, not even four zombies. At this point, every shot counts.

The build-up of sweat in his palm loosened his grip. He examines his hand; trembling and numb with uncertainty, what lies between him and his enemies is just one simple electronic door. Beyond that, someone important is there waiting for him, alive and afraid. Or perhaps they...no. That couldn't possibly be the case. He clutches the handle once more, on the count of three breaths, he bursts in. It only took a split second for bullets to fly across the room, landing hits in the enemies' calves and forearms. Carlos moves in closer before they could react, instantly killing a soldier with one shot under the jaw as blood and plasma spew out onto the ceiling. They return fire, only to hit their ex-partner's lifeless corpse. Carlos thrusts the body towards the two henchmen and staggers them to the ground, he flips; locking the remaining guy pressed up the wall with his entire body, they struggle but was immediately executed with a blow to the head. Blood splattered on Carlos's right shoulder but that didn't faze him. The sound of his assault rifle clicks empty as he saw the two crawling back up. "Tch." His tongue snapped as the gun launched across the room at a high velocity, knocking one in the face and stumbling backwards. Like a chain of effect, they’ve sprawled out on the floor once again. Stepping his right foot on their torso, his gaze shows pity as he ponders over them before pulling out his pistol from the holster.

"Hope you got friends on the other side."

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The aftermath of those four shots lingers in the room. A mixture of gunpowder and blood made Carlos's stomach twist up in a knot, but he got more important things to worry about. The life of his partner was the only thing that occupied his mind. The final door slides open; revealing a skinny, middle-aged looking man in a fresh set of lab coat, stood in front of a worktable and unaware of his presence. Inside, those hydro chambers stood twice his height with flesh substance floating inside the liquid. Some are just a blob of meat and others have fully transformed into somewhat human-shaped, but all are deformed. Upon closer inspection, one mutated monster's eye pop open. Carlos flinched. He examined around and was shocked to find that they are alive, all of them. What kind of sick joke is this? Is this what I've been fighting? He wondered.

"Admiring my creations, I see. Do you like it?" The man asked.

"Is this what's been running the city into a shitshow? What the fuck is this pharmaceutical company hiding?" He looks around. "Where are they?"

"Ah, yes! My precious little plaything. You're just in time to witness the beginning of my newest creation." The man chuckles, he pressed a button and the sound of machinery begins to whir. The glass cell shifts closer into the room, unveiling you in a comatose state, pretty as a picture. "They are sedated, for now. But soon, they will become humanity’s greatest invention and you will be the first one to witness it. Isn't that something?"

The blood inside him boils; the rage within could not be contained, white-hot magma erupting and coating every strain in his system. He pulled the trigger; the shots punctured through both of the man's legs as he knelt on the floor, screaming in agony. Carlos rushed to your side, unclasping any restrictions and carefully let you lean against the wall.

"Heh...what will you achieve by saving them...? The city's gone rogue...everybody's dead...and yet you couldn't save half your men. So...why bother saving them...the end is nigh!" His manic amusement shakes the whole room to the ground. But, the laughter was cut short and soon, it has been replaced by the clinking of a bullet shell against the hard deck and empty clickings. Gun drops as he struts towards the pathetic slob, straggling in the crimson liquid that's supposed to keep him alive. Well, not anymore. Carlos straddles on top of his weakened body, gaze bore into his soul. He wondered. How could someone like him still be alive? As the world burns and he gets to live? The ability to heal given to this monster and yet, he chose destruction. He must be purged.

The sound of his leather gloves creek as it made the first impact. The feeling of bone to bone seems odd to Carlos but...it excites him. With each hit, the pain pushes him even further, numbing and bruising. It felt right. He pants, the blood spews and paints him in a new shade of violence. The man weakly chuckles.

"The man who fights monsters have become a monster himself. Isn't that irony...?" He coughs, blood spilling out on the edge of his lips.

"Killing humans...how does that feel? Still want to play the hero and save them? With the world on fire and all those lives in your hands...you will only taint them. Lemme tell you a story...do you know what kind of flower blooms the brightest even in the harshest weathers?" Carlos looks at him quizzically.

"Snowdrops. They are the first ones to bloom long before spring comes around...the pure and innocent. At the beginning of time, Snow searched for a colour to borrow... The element admired flowers and their vibrant colours. One day, Snow asked and pleaded for one of the colours from the flowers, but the blossoms denied Snow's request; they felt Snow was too cold and undesirable. The snowdrop, however, felt sorry for Snow and offered it its own colour. It accepted the gift and the element itself became as white as an angel's feathers... To show its gratitude, Snow allowed snowdrops to bloom at the end of each winter with their own protection against the blizzard weather. From then on, Snow and snowdrops exist side-by-side as friends."

He heaves. "Like I said...irony... Their friendship is only a fabrication out of pity. Just like you!" The deathly cackle roams as he chokes on his own spit and blood.

Ears buzzed with white silence, his visions hazed with a red lens filter and heart palpate at an abnormal speed. Carlos felt every ridge of the handle on his knife and takes out his weapon, unhurried. The shiny metal pressed upon the wilting man's oesophagus- with only a little strength, it opened up. Blood spatter across Carlo's face, unflinching. His eyes darkened, tunnel vision focused on the crevice of the wound; there's friction on the thin layer of skin as the sharp edge glides slowly from one end of the neck to another. Carlos finishing him off with a fling of his blade, scattering red all over the wall. Both of his hands grip the handle tight; rising it high above his head, he paused for a moment to look at him one last time, then strikes down into the man's right chest in the speed of light. Pulverising his cardiac organ. He retrieves the knife and repeats over and over again with the red fluid gushes out with each stab until there is nothing left. A monster bathed in his enemy's blood. The man croaks in agony and over a few seconds, it stops. And so does Carlos.

The white noise has been replaced by his own rapid breathing. Thoughts are empty, his gaze quivers yet, he does not fear anything. He felt it...warmth. How did he not notice it? Is this how warm humans feel? He never realised this, this kind of feeling, it's something so different from killing a zombie. He looks down at his own two hands...so red. A smile crept along his face with the feeling of content. In a spark, he burst into a peal of harrowing laughter, vibrating the whole room.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

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

In my moments of wake, I find myself bestowing my gaze upon a beast gazing back at me with a musing look in his eyes. They're so dark and dire, almost like someone gouged out a part of him and replaced it with something so sinister. He snaps, now truly looking at me through the eyes of the actual Carlos, as if nothing happened.

"You're awake! Good, I was starting to get worried about you. We should probably leave and catch up with Tyrell. They should've called for the extraction by now." Placing his tarnished knife back into the holster, he made his way towards me. My fear of him vanished, he's just like the Carlos I met a few hours ago. Warm and caring. "Let's go." He said, both his arms shifts under my back and behind my knees, picking my weight up with ease. "Get some rest...I wake you up when went get to the rendezvous point." His voice is hushed and the sound of his heartbeat soothes out all my stress. By the time we left the room, I was already drifting between dreamworld and reality.

The sound of his footstep was kept at a constant pace, his movement rocked me side to side, gently without missing a beat. But the further he tread, the temperature in the air got colder and yet I could not feel the wind brushing against me.

"Stay here. I'm gonna fix something real quick." Carlos's body heat left my side and was replaced by the icy touch of a piece of furniture. The mechanical hum occupied my eardrums and everything sound muffled once again. Eyes weakly opened and the sight wasn't what I was expecting. What greets me was four walls made of glass entrapping my body as he stood and watched.

"Carlos...what are you doing? Let me out. Come on...this isn't funny, Carlos. Let me out of here!" I begged.

He shook his head, resting a hand on the glass in front of me, looking at me longingly. "I can't." His words were breathless.

"Why?"

"I made you a promise. And this is the only way for me to protect you...You would be safer here, nothing can hurt you." His thumb grazes something small in his palm. I looked up and saw a room that was surrounded by pieces of machinery and nitrogen tanks, placed accordingly in rows of four. Then, it hit me.

"Don't do this..." I cried. But, it was too late. His thumb clicked on the small device in his hand and soon, a strain of gas misted out from the tubings and masking the entirety of the glass cell, leaving me dazed and numbed as I crawl back to the shivering nothingness.

"I'm sorry...I promise I'll come back for you." His empty words circulated in my ears and through the air as he walked away, leaving me in the darkest den of Umbrella. Cold, afraid and alone; frozen in time without anybody knowing.

And there I was, still as a landscape; living on top on a snowy mountain at the beginning of Spring, as pale as Death herself. Bidding my farewell to him until next Winter comes; when a blanket of snow tops the upside of the greeneries and then, we shall meet again.

#i'm gonna take a break before writing again cuz you know...self care #i do like writing something different #maybe i should do that stage play...hm...#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira x reader #re fanfiction #re fanfic #resident evil #resident evil 3 remake #re3 remake #⭐️.doc

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valhallanrose · 4 years

Text

Funeral Bell

Astoria’s foray into the labyrinth spawns more questions than they can find answers for on their own - but the journey to find those answers will be more disastrous than they thought.

Astoria is nonbinary, and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably.

Title: Funeral Bell by PHILDEL

2.2k words. No CWs apply.

The quiet clicking of Astoria’s boots on the marble beneath their feet was deafening, punctuating the emptiness of the hall as their pacing quickened with every passing moment.

When they were well enough to travel, Myrna had done the best thing she could think of - bring Astoria down the mountains to the first Prakran port in the valley she could find and board the first ship that would let them book passage to the Republic of Galbrada.

The Whitethorn Citadel had long since been a friend of Myrna Canonach. They’d employed her for one task or another over the years, transporting artifacts and manuscripts that they feared might become damaged without the care of someone who would monitor their transport and the conditions they were kept in when traveling over sea and land. Though they paid her well for her work, they had always promised Myrna that should she need anything, their resources were at her disposal - all she needed to do was ask.

And Myrna, with Astoria in her shadow, had deemed it time to call in those favors. If anyone could explain what had happened to Astoria, it was going to be the scholars at the Citadel.

When they were granted audience, the council had made it clear that they only wanted to speak to Myrna, which left Astoria where they were now: standing out in the hall, pacing across the marble floors and wringing gloved hands nervously while the clock ticked by.

To them, it felt like Myrna had stepped inside the council room hours ago.

Voices rose beyond the heavy wooden door, but the words were unintelligible - though Astoria could make out enough to tell that someone was angry, and odds were, it was about them.

The clicking of their boots came to a halt as Astoria stopped outside the door, framed the archway as they looked down to their carefully gloved hands and tried to squash down the burning that welled up in the corners of their eyes.

This had become the new normal.

Ever since they’d come out of the labyrinth, the welcoming smiles they’d always known had changed, hiding wariness and curiosity that made them feel more like an artifact on display than a person. They wanted to scream, to cry, every time a hand was laid on their shoulder and they were asked if they were alright, because the answer was a resounding no - I’m not sure if I’ll ever be alright - but they knew the answer that was wanted was one of strength, one of ‘everything’s fine, we’ll figure this out, I’ll stop at nothing to get answers’.

They couldn’t stand being touched anymore, either. Every time they came in contact with someone’s bare skin it was like the world fell away and all they could hear was the roar of blood in their ears, the steady pounding of a heartbeat not their own echoing in their chest until they finally managed to break away from whatever spell they’d fallen under. The gloves helped with that - it reduced the chance of contact Astoria wasn’t prepared for - as did their clothing, which they chose carefully now to cover as much of their skin as possible. Even Myrna’s gentle hand on their shoulder made them jump, made them fear the trance until they realized that she too had taken to wearing gloves when trying to comfort their grandchild.

It made them feel human, in an odd way. Respected. Cared for. Like someone was still listening when it felt like their voice was being drowned out.

The hinges squealed as the door opened, drawing Astoria’s eyes up from their gloved palms to meet Myrna’s tired gaze - they noticed the irritated flush to her face and the way her hair looked ruffled from the way she ran her things through it when she was frustrated - and hesitantly took a few steps forward when Myrna beckoned for them to come inside the room and join them.

The council, or the governing body of the Citadel, was made up of five members. Three of which currently sat at the raised marble slab, notes laid out on the surface - two men, one on each side, and a woman seated in the middle who had quite a motherly smile on her face despite the situation.

“Hello, Astoria.” She greeted, setting her quill down to give them a slight wave. “You may call me Dorothea. How are you feeling?”

Like hell.

“I’m okay.” Astoria folded their arms, hands loosely gripping their sleeves as they stepped a bit closer. “How are you?”

“Worried, I’ll admit.” Dorothea sighed, folding her hands in front of herself on the table. “Astoria...your grandmother has been kind in retelling what has happened, but we worry that we aren’t getting the full story. We need to hear it from you, to make sure that we are getting the full truth.”

Myrna scoffed behind Astoria, and Dorothea shot her a look, then turned her gaze back to Astoria with an expectant expression on her face.

Please tell me this is the last time.

“I can do that.”

“Good.” Dorothea picked up her quill again and gave Astoria a nod. “When you’re ready.”

And so, Astoria began to speak, arms wrapped around themself for some sense of security and feeling like they were mere inches tall under the weight of speculative eyes. The sounds of quills scratching on paper, once comforting, was deafening - distracting enough for Astoria to lose their place a few times and need prompting to continue when they fell silent for too long.

It wasn’t the labyrinth they were afraid of, not anymore. But every time they got to the part about the sepulcher...they couldn’t keep the tremors out of their voice, no matter how many times they told the story, and they carried through until the very end. Detailing the days after, fearing madness as they lie awake in their tent and try in vain to block out the heartbeats of dozens of colleagues and friends, staying awake for days until their body shut down and forced them to sleep - it made them realize how tired they were, physically and mentally, of living life like this.

There was a long, long silence as Dorothea set her quill down, raising clasped hands to rest against her chin and staring down at Astoria with an unidentifiable look in her eye before she broke the silence by addressing them.

“Thank you, Astoria, for your candor.”

Astoria only nodded, watching as Dorothea’s gaze shifted to look behind her and address Myrna directly over their head.

“Myrna, I believe the best course of action...would be for you to enroll Astoria here, allow them to remain here for the foreseeable future while we examine their affliction -”

No.

“- it would be best if you do not stay, Myrna. We understand your concern for Astoria, but your presence might make them hesitate to share information with us -”

Not like this.

“- of course they’ll be well taken care of, and you’re welcome to visit any time -”

“Please.” Astoria whimpered, Myrna’s head turning toward them as the words caught and died in their throat. “I don’t...I don’t want…”

Their voices overtook Astoria’s, no matter how many times they opened their mouth and tried to force the words out, but...none of them would even look in their direction. It made them feel so small, so insignificant, as if they weren’t even there no matter how much Myrna argued for them to take some time to consider, that there was no rush to make a decision right that second if they didn’t know what they were dealing with.

It was too much. Too much on Astoria’s fragile heart, bearing the weight of fear and change and utter exhaustion, to not break when a hand pressed down on the scales and tipped them over the edge.

The shout that ripped from their throat would leave them hoarse for days, tears streaking down their cheeks unbidden as they finally, finally, cracked under it all.

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

It was like time...stopped.

The room was silenced in an instant. Not a bird sang through the open windows, not a page ruffled in a gnarled hand, not a pen scratched across the wooden surface of a desk - complete and utter silence, as if they’d all frozen in place no matter what they’d been doing before their outburst.

“I am not some gods-damned object to be studied, dissected, and put back together solely for your own gains!” They ripped off a glove, wiping fiercely at their cheeks in an effort to try and hold some semblance of composure. “Not a single one of you cares about how I feel, cares about what I want when I didn’t ask for any of this. I want to stop feeling like I need to crawl out of my own skin when someone touches me, I want to stop feeling like a stranger in my own body, I want to stop feeling like I’m on the brink of losing my mind at any moment.”

Distraught, Astoria whipped the glove down to the floor, hair billowing around their shoulders and sticking slightly to the wet tear-trails on their cheeks as they looked back up to the three council members seated before them.

“You can’t just...you can’t just take that choice away from me.” Their voice broke, new tears spilling over and blurring their vision behind their glasses. “I want answers. I want them, so, so badly. But I want my life back. I want to know how to control this, not just be a source of information to be gawked at until you say I’ve given you all I can. I’m...I’m tired of feeling like this. I know it won’t go back to normal, I’m not so stupid as to think there’s a way my life will ever be the same. But I want to know that I can get close to it, and I want to know I can live my life in the world out there without being afraid of myself at every unknown turn.”

When they rubbed their eyes with the heels of their hands and managed to look at this fragment of the council - really look at them - confusion overshadowed their distress as they took a single step toward the trio seated before them.

They hadn’t moved, once. They thought they were imagining it, seeing the same expression and same positions of their body right down to the place their quills sat on parchment, but...they realized with some horror that they weren’t imagining it at all.

They realized when they looked to Myrna that they could see the slightest tremor in the hand that gripped the silver-wrought handle of her cane, see the way her irises darted back and forth and her hand was still outstretched, reaching for Astoria with that ever-comforting look on her face. Her arm hung in midair, fingers outstretched as she took a step toward her grandchild, but...locked in place, as if someone had captured her likeness in colored stone.

And there was...a beating, at their fingertips, something they could feel through their gloves as if it was buried beneath their skin from the moment they’d come into this world.

Astoria flexed their fingers, wetting dry lips with confusion muddling their mind -

Canonach.

Astoria’s head snapped up, searching the room for the source of the voice that had echoed in their ears, then looked toward Dorothea - her brow tipped slightly down, as if it was the only gesture of concentration she could muster as they realized it was her voice they were hearing.

Breathe. I need you to breathe, and I need you to let go.

Let go? What could they possibly...

...no. They realized it, looking inward, that the pit they felt in their stomach was not a pit at all. There, as if it were coiled in their gut, they could feel the tension, the stiffness, like a spring stretched too tight and ready to snap should you give it a single turn more.

Astoria took a shaky breath in, holding it for a moment before they let it out, and the spring unwound with a pace that made Astoria stumble back and fall square on their ass on the cold marble floor.

Myrna, Dorothea, and their silent compatriots all collapsed like puppets with cut strings - gasping for air as Astoria sat numb on the stone. They didn’t register Myrna dragging herself upright with her cane, limping heavily as she rushed to Astoria and threw arms tight around their shoulder.

They’d...they’d done that. Stopped them all in their tracks without even a second thought, the realization ice in their veins as Myrna pulled them in and whispered words Astoria couldn’t quite comprehend over the ringing in their ears.

Astoria glanced up, finding Dorothea rising from her seat, seeing her expression twist into something between awe and fear for a single moment before they buried their face in the side of Myrna’s neck to try and avoid looking anyone in the eye.

Why did it feel like every time they came a step closer to finding answers, they felt like they lost a piece of themself in the process?

#astoria fenharrow #i'm trying to finish the rougher parts of their arc but I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER #my writing

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flying-elliska · 4 years

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Skam France Season 6 Review

It’s that time, I guess. My feelings are, like many, mixed. I think I enjoyed the season more than most people here, but the ending was a massive let down. Overall it boils down to this : Skam France is great at moments and very bad at structure. A lot of my issues with the season is what is not in it. I saw so much potential that never quite materialized, and it left me frustrated. At the same time, Lola is a really cool character, her arc is really interesting, her relationship with her sister is one of the best things they’ve ever done, and the actors killed it. Loved La Mif, discovering other sides of Eliott, the urbex backgrounds, and Maya. A lot of fascinating character moments. This is definitely my second favorite season after s3 - at times I even thought it would equal it. Sadly, though, Skam France will remain a bit of a one hit wonder for me. Because they are so good at bringing up problems in a nuanced layering way - be it addiction, grief, eating disorders, internalized ableism, racist microagressions - but when it comes to resolving what they brought up, they default towards a ‘let’s all be nice to each other, hug or kiss, love saves the day yay !’ story. Which is, when you claim to deal with real world issues, simplistic, immature, and at times quite offensive. It works for s3, which is at its core a tale of self-discovery, self-acceptance and romance. But niceness doesn’t solve racism, and family problems aren’t solved with a hug, and addiction recovery doesn’t hinge on having someone to kiss, and the series came dangerously close to implying that at times.

All in all, this is a show that often manages to be both brilliant and terrible at the same time. At least it’s not dull.

Positives/Negatives/Meh breakdown :

Positives :

- Sisterly love : My favorite thing without a doubt is the relationship between Lola and Daphné. Flavie and Lula killed it. Almost all the clips that made me cry were the ones with the both of them in it. At the beginning their rivalry is so relatable to me : the responsible sibling who takes on too much burdens and is too controlling and parentified vs. the problem sibling who acts out to express the issues the rest of the family are repressing - i have been in both of those spots. you can see how they slowly realize that the gap between them didn’t need to be there, that it wasn’t their fault, that it was the result of their parent’s bullshit and even shittier circumstances. seeing them make little gestures to recognize each other’s pain, to nurture each other, to give each other support, but also to tell each other some unpleasant truths, was so incredibly powerful. Relationships between sisters can be just so...complex, and loving, and petty, and jealous, and supportive, and feral, and annoying, and understanding, and ugh, they made me feel all of that and more. I have a sister, and I have a relationship like that with her, and this season gave me some very important perspectives. Really, relationships between women aren’t explored enough, and this season really did this one thing excellently and if only for that, it deserves to be watched. That moment where Lola talks to Daphné about her self destructive tendencies...so important. I am so happy that Daphné was the one finding Lola in her tower of solitude, and the moment where she says ‘you pay too much attention to what other people think, Lola’ was the emotional turning point of the season for me, because it was Daphné recognizing Lola really cared behind her mask of coldness, but also that she was hurt by that and that she needed to love herself regardless of the love her parents didn’t give her ; and also that she heard Lola saying it to her and that it inspired her too, so there is this amazing reciprocity. It was so powerful, I’m still reeling from it. And it was a beautiful full circle from the beginning of the season.

- Family of outsiders : the urbex gang was such a wonderful new group this season. It was bound to be tricky getting us to like this new generation, and I think they did a pretty good job. Even tho I wish we got to know them a bit more, they were all intriguing and interesting on their own, and the vibes of Lamif as a whole were just so fun and lovely. Loved the neuroatypical vibes I got from Sekou and Jo. Love that they introduced a trans guy character. Loved Maya as group mom. And seeing them warm up to Lola was really sweet. The social media of them hanging out was more or less the only good social media we got this season lmao. The urbex thing was a great symbol for Lola finding a home with the outcasts, a bit on the fringe of society, and the start of acceptance, of bringing her in from the cold. Maya and Lola’s relationship fit in that really nicely, especially the bits about them talking about their shared experiences of grief, and my favorite scenes with them is showing Lola that her scars can be beautiful and that her rough experiences are part of who she is. The way she didn’t take Lola’s bullshit was great, and even tho I think their relationship was rushed, overall they really fit well together. Love Maya’s character as a concept in general, this funky purple haired lesbian environmentalist with amazing sense of style, and I really hope we see her again in upcoming seasons. And finally, I also really liked Eliott and Lola’s friendship (except for the ending) - the fact that they understand this darkness that they share, but that Eliott has succeded in climbing over it, and so he can give Lola support, understanding, guidance. I loved that we got to hear a bit more of his perspective on mental illness, the good and the bad times, that we saw his passion for movies become more real. I loved the fact that they bonded over creative things and photography, too, and that she found a safe space in the video store. And even tho it wasn’t resolved properly, the scene where he comes to get her and punches Aymeric really made me cry. Also, BASILE. Best bro in law ever. Their scenes together were so homey and warm and sweet. They will have such a good relationship in time. Overall, I really like how central friendship was in this season, shown as so powerful and important. They could have done more with it but I love a lot of what we got. I am just a sucker for found family, man.

- Lola herself : I know she was a controversial character right from the start. She’s been called manipulative, selfish, out of control, toxic. And honestly at times...maybe she was a bit. I still love her. She is just so interesting to me. The lack of compassion towards her in the fandom was seriously depressing at times, and often felt like a symptom of something I’ve seen in a lot of different fandoms, ie the capacity to only tolerate moral ambiguity when it’s attached to attractive white male characters - and to only tolerate mental illness symptoms when they can be romanticized. In the end, she’s a struggling teen from a deeply dysfunctional family who’s had a very rough life, of course she’s not going to be well adjusted. All in all, I think she’s so brave, and she is a fighter. I adored her feral energies in the trailer. I also really liked her blunt honesty at times, even if it was sometimes hurtful and excessive. I think because I have the opposite tendency to be afraid to speak my mind, I really dig a character who isn’t afraid to speak the ugly truth. Even though, again, ‘the truth’ isn’t always cut and clear, and what Lola is often doing instead is listening to ‘depression voice’ who tells her to believe the worst in people. I find that fascinating, because in my experience, yes, depression comes with this terrible lucidity that makes you see through a lot of bullshit but at the same time, is distorting your perspective because of fear and shame, and kicking that, and disentangling your perception from that fatalism, is very complicated. I loved how genuine she was, how mature too sometimes through the pain, more mature than she should have been. It was rough watching her relapse, but I think the portrayal of addiction was pretty very well done overall, not romanticized and explained in a very coherent way. I wish the show had given her a bit more of a clearer view of her inner thoughts towards the end and let her apologize a bit more. And a clearer realisation that her parent’s lack of well expressed love didn’t doom her. But...yeah Following her really made me question my own - more hidden - self destructive impulses, linked to family shit, that pushes me to sabotage and isolate myself. Like Eliott said to her - it’s really a lifelong struggle. I think overall her arc was pretty satisfying, learning to step away from the edge, letting people in, seeing that she isn’t alone, accepting she deserves better and that her failures don’t doom her. That it is about getting up and trying again. Love her using her mother’s camera and wanting to get a phoenix tattoo, a perfect symbol for her. Also Flavie was amazing, she’s got a bright future ahead.

Negatives :

- No follow up to the assault storyline : The thing that I am, without any single doubt, most mad about, is the fact they didn’t bring up the sexual assault again. Along with Charles’ rape apologism, this creates a very dubious pattern of trivializing the issue ‘as long as it’s not real rape’. The fact that the morning after immediately turns to Elu drama is what sort of started my disconnect from the season, and the fact that they don’t bring it up afterwards even once made me angry. I think Lola, before going back to the hospital, should have told someone about the abuse she endured there, and should have told someone about Aymeric, even if only to acknowledge she wants to be done with that part of her life. Aymeric is like...Lola’s biggest villain, in a sense, he is a horrible predator but he also somehow represents her worst impulses, that part of herself that tells her she doesn’t deserve better, and I think that as a character, he was interesting, and he should have been adressed/exorcised better. If Lola was a real person, of course, she would probably have to deal with this in therapy, down the line, later, but as a story, never adressing this again left it unfinished. And this is really the kind of event you NEED catharsis and resolution for. Otherwise, it’s irresponsible.

- A generally overstuffed and disjointed structure : My biggest problems with this season are about what isn’t and what isn’t it. I liked most of the clips, I don’t have an issue with them going dark, strangely enough, but the way they were put together was just...messy. Like many people have said, too much stuff not properly adressed. Palm of most annoyingly useless subplot, the whole Tiff thing. Yes, it was cool comparing her clique to Lamifex and Lola realizing she wants nothing to do with those shallow fake bitches. Sekou hacking her account to replace it with pigeons, amazing. After that though, it should have been DONE, and in general, it should have taken a lot less time and attention. Comparing Tiff’s social media addiction to Lola’s issues felt like some trivializing bullshit. The whole thing was just so annoying. It would have been good if it had led to some discussion of social inequality but like...not this shit. Char, equally useless (although, cool actress, cool style). Another MASSIVE problem is the lack of follow through on big clips. A great thing about SKAM, usually, is that it shows you the aftermath of big moments - characters lying in bed, cuddling, talk to their friends, crying in the shower, etc. It allows the viewer to breathe and really get into the character’s perspective, to be comforted and process drama, and for the emotions to resonate better, to have space to develop richly. Here...we had Lola brush off her assault, we saw nothing after Daphné got her back from the tower thinking she could have killed herself, we learned that they had money problems and the father didn’t go to work and then that was never adressed again and the light was turned back on by magic (????), we saw Eliott go on a major bender and didn’t really see how he got better, etc. Big lack of introspective clips in the latter part of the season took me out of Lola’s head. It was all stressful and breathless, all intensity and no pause like one grating high pitch note instead of music, it felt oppressive, with poor contrast, and very badly paced. It made everything blur together and feel less relevant. The problem with that is it really takes you out of the story ; it’s hard to care when you know whatever is happening might not have a resolution, and it doesn’t put you in the shoes of the character. This was compounded by how mediocre the social media was, when it is usually used to bridge in the gaps. And then to finish : the structure was so uneven, especially in the second part of the season. Towards the middle we had some very short episodes with very underwhelming endings, and Vendredis that felt like non events, and there wasn’t a lot happening - and then, bam, ep 9, drama overload, almost like misery p*rn, and then a super rushed resolution in ep 10. Like they cared more about twists and giving the opposite of what was expected instead of solid coherent narrative and rhythm. The romantic back and forth felt repetitive as hell too. All in all, it made for a very unsatisfying live watching experience, pretty sure anyone who didn’t watch live would like it a lot more.

- The last two episodes : Really, I could have overlooked all the problems with the season if they had given us a good ending, but...they really really didn’t. And contrasted with last season, where my problems were focused on the middle, for me the ending is really the worst part of this season. I didn’t dislike the controversial club clips, I liked having the insight into Eliott’s insecurities, but they should never have brought those up if they weren’t going to let him adress them properly. Having everything go to shit in Lola’s life at once felt like overkill - they really should have solved those problems earlier, and then dealt with a few ones properly, showed us Lola freaking out on her own, and taken out the bullshit at the high school. Thierry slapping her was also too much, he could just have said these clumsy things. She could have distanced herself from Maya instead of pushing her away again. Also, they really should have had this happen in episode 8 again, and given us a proper resolution. While the tower sequence was incredibly powerful, I pretty much liked nothing after that. It was so annoying that Eliott brushed off Lola’s apology because while he wasn’t wrong that he decided to get drunk himself, she still needed to apologize and actually state that she wanted to get better so she didn’t hurt her friends, so as a resolution it was very mediocre. Thierry recognizing they should have given Lola the choice to go the hospital was a step but really not enough. And the moments with Maya were cute sure but mostly cheesy and unearned. Same for the ending clip. Mostly it’s such an unsatisfying farewell to the old generation, and it really feels like they wanted us to force to move on - didn’t want to properly recognize the end of an era, gave us almost nothing about their BAC or their future plans, etc etc. Also, letting Charles talk and having Arthur and Alexia kiss again ? SO BAD. UGH. I will be forever disappointed they didn’t give us a Multi POV or at least sth better on social media. And not having Eliott’s POV or at least a real Elu conversation (pretty much all season...) so frustrating I will never not be bitter about that. So yeah. The season started so powerfully but went out with a whimper instead of a bang. That whole ‘romantic love solves everything!!!’ shtick...very undercooked tbh.

Meh :

- Mayla’s development : I wanted to stan them SO BAD. Like, wlw in skam (that doesn’t turn into a panphobic mess?) YES, all the way yes. Maya and Lola had great chemistry, great dynamic. I loved their first few clips, the kind of confrontational flirting, the boldness, it was like...damn girls ! we love a non useless lesbian ! But...somewhere along the way, their relationship really suffered from the wacky plot structure. They should have shown us more bonding before we got to the angsting (esp during first urbex night). Also, their first kiss was sweet but I hated the ‘you’re my addiction’ line and that kind of put a damper on it. I liked the scenes where they open up about difficult things, the love Maya showed to Lola’s scars, the dandelion symbolism was lovely, but it wasn’t balanced enough with other stuff, and I felt Maya was way too stoic at times. And I really, really didn’t like the ending, honestly. They kept a good balance all season showing Lola wasn’t relying entirely on romantic love, that her family and friends were also important - but saying ‘i’m okay as long as you’re here’ at the end...honestly that sounds unhealthy and codependent as fuck. I really wish they’d done a more subtle, taking it slow ending for them.

- The financial issues : Again a storyline with much potential that wasn’t dealt with properly. It’s really good that we got a main that wasn’t from an economically priviledged background. Especially it felt very relevant to Daphné’s storyline, with the shame she felt at her friends seeing her place, the pressure to make it work, tying into her ED, etc etc. But cutting off the power, the father not working going nowhere...it’s like the plotline meandered and then vanished into thin air. Instead of that, they could have given us a scene of Daphné freaking out over the bills like in OG w Vilde, keeping the focus on her for that plot because she’s the most affected ; and then in the end of the season the father taking them over from her and telling her he’s found another job and that those things shouldn’t be her responsibility. That would have been relevant, instead of just...a loose end.

- Family issues : The Lecomte family dynamic seemed fascinating to me at the start. The mom being this shadowy complicated figure. The inability of the father to deal with anything. Daphné being parentified, Lola becoming the symptom child. They could have done a lot with this, but in the end, it felt like it was brushed aside too easily by saying the mom sent letters so she wasn’t too bad and Thierry is making breakfast so he’s trying. Not enough. I wanted them to let Lola acknowledge she deserved better and that their parent’s crap wasn’t on her. That her mom should have looked for help and the other two shouldn’t have pretended everything was okay. In general, there is way too much pressure to overlook toxic parent behavior and I wish they’d been clearer about this.

- Mental health portrayal : Some parts of it were really good. Showing Daphné’s ED, letting Eliott talk about his episodes and relapses, showing some of the dark sides of depression and addiction. They just needed to show more of the recovery, because that is often the representation that they lacked the most. I don’t blame them for showing the bad sides of the mental healhcare system (which is terribly outdated and dysfunctional in France, I’m speaking from experience) but they should have shown the good too. Like do they find recovery boring or something ? Because as a person w MI, that’s actually what I’m dying to see, and they’ve been a real letdown in that department. I also think they should have acknowledged that the Lecomte family has mental issues as a whole, that the mother should have gotten help, and the father probably needs it too (still think they should have gone to therapy as a group lol).

- Elu and Eliott’s development : Honestly, not a big fan of how they wrote Lucas in s5&s6, in a lot of clips he was the angry guy with a temper, I miss s4 Lucas who was so compassionate and showed real growth and emotional intelligence. Here it just felt like they were fitting his character to plot needs, and it’s so sad for a character who had such an amazing story development. Now, I loved the glimpses of domestic Elu we got, how Axel and Maxence really showed the intimacy that had grown between them, they really felt married with all the nonverbal conversations and touches, that was sweet. But it’s so annoying that they hinted at Lucas’s insecurities and Eliott’s lack of communications and just brushed it away with ‘oh they love each other they will be okay’ sure bitch but then show us how ? that’s the interesting stuff ? it really feels sometimes like the writer(s) didn’t like how strongly the fans focused on the romance when they wanted to be talking about MATURE dark stuff not that frilly fluffy romance shit *eyeroll* male writers who think they’re above that stuff is so annoying as is the conflating of dark and mature - anyway. Again I liked seeing Eliott in his element this season, he is really thriving, with his movie and the video store, and that made me very happy. I don’t think it’s unrealistic he didn’t make a lot of friends in uni - French university can be so isolating, there isn’t a campus or a vibrant social life like in the US, it’s a very common experience to feel lost and isolated for newbies and it was also my case - but ? Sofiane ? Idriss ??? They could have found a better excuse to implicate Lamifex in the movie making tbh, like Jo egging him on about her passion for directing or whatever, and Sofiane could have been there chilling with them it would have been so cool. I just wish Eliott would have had more of an arc like Daphné did. It wouldn’t have taken much, and since he is my favorite character, I will never not be disappointed at all the wasted potential.

Yeah so in the end i think this was a very good story they didn’t entirely give themselves the right storytelling tools to tell. Like there is something in the way they prioritize certain moments over others that...I just find very frustrating and weird. So...flawed, but still very interesting overall.

#skam france #skamfr s6 #lola lecomte #mayla

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